


Hide Your Face So The World Will Never Find You (Paper Faces On Parade)

by huntersandangels



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Boss/Employee Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Kid Fic, Lies, Lots of Angst, M/M, farm owner Jonny, genius playboy billionaire philanthropist Pat, poorly written smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:56:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 55,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3634074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntersandangels/pseuds/huntersandangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan Toews, farm owner and guardian of his nephew, is in desperate need of capable farm hands. Patrick Kane certainly does not fit the description but when a mutual friend confides in him that Patrick has lost everything he owned and is in serious need himself and offers Jonathan money to hire him, how can he say no?<br/>Patrick Kane loves statistics and spending his money on thoroughly planned ‘adventures’ for his friends when he’s not partying away the rest of his fortune. If he wins the bet he can continue to plot freely but if he loses his extra curriculum activities have to stop. He agrees to go on an ‘adventure’ himself and settles in the Toews Farm posing as a farm hand. But as the time goes by, the less pretend it feels-and the more he enjoys Jonathan and Etienne’s company and the quite life in the farm; to the point where he’s not sure whether he wants to win the bet or lose...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a m/f paperback romance novel called ‘The Billionaire’s Wedding Masquerade’ by Melissa McClone. Book and fic have very few similarities plot wise, but beware of spoilers if you decide to read both.  
> Unbeta’d mostly, though Zarah did her best to make sense of my mess; all remaining mistakes are my own.  
> My knowledge of geography and farming is limited (you can blame poor European education if you like but it’s mostly my fault), my French non-existent and though I’ve done excessive research take everything with a grain of salt.  
>  **Disclaimer** : This is a work of fiction; all lies (except the parts that are true), the characters are real people who belong to themselves (and possibly each other but I can’t vouch for that) - except the OC’s who belong to my vivid imagination- and this is written for entertainment purposes only (if someone was actually paying me to write this stuff I wouldn’t be so financially insecure).  
>  **Updates** : This fic is complete (it takes the pressure off me) and will be updated once per day.  
>  **Warnings** : Just to be on the safe side (I still can’t identify correctly which elements need to be warned) there’s reference to an off-screen past fatal car accident and its results.  
> There are also possible (slight) dub-con elements as one or both parties are not privileged to the whole truth.  
> There’s also an imbalance of power dynamic since it contains an employer/employee relationship and financial gap between the main characters.  
> As this is an AU setting, some might find the characterization far from realistic. I tried my best.  
>  **Acknowledgements** : Once again, this fic wouldn’t have been possible without [Zarah](http://www.thesecellardoors.tumblr.com/)’s encouragement and support. Thank you for striking my ego and listening to me whine and ramble. I will always be grateful you decided one day to visit my askbox and just never left! Even if you purposefully try to get on my nerves at times!  
>  **Additional notes** : Comments are encouraged and appreciated. You can also visit my [tumblr](http://oflovesandlikes.tumblr.com/) if you have an idea/prompt or you just want to talk about dumb hockey boys in love (or whatever else you like). Following me is not necessary. If it’s something I can write, I will.  
> If you’re still reading this, thank you!

 

 

 

 

“Nice joint, how did you find such a hidden treasure?” Patrick Kane the Second- genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist- asks.

Patrick is indeed a type of genius, turned billionaire at the mere age of twenty after developing revolutionary statistic software, currently used by half the world, even the government of the United States. He’s a bit of a charmer as well, all sparking blue eyes and lopsided dimpled grins and golden curls. He can also be quite frustrating!

“You don’t need to be sarcastic Pat. I know this is not the kind of establishment you usually frequent” Patrick Sharp, former GQ model and current co-owner of a modelling agency and long time friend, says.

Pat eyes the petite brunette waitress “It has a nice view” he leers.

“She’s not your type”, Sharp quips.

Patrick examines the girl, barely any make up, her hair in a tight bun, her red uniform a little crumbled just as her worn out trainers, very plain, ordinary; the girl next door. Totally not his type, nothing that screams domesticity and long term ever is, but maybe in fishnet stockings & the right lingerie...  “Meh, she might do for a while” Pat says because he’s not about to agree that Sharp is right. He’s not actively trying to be an asshole, he’d just decided long ago to never get invested, never care enough.

Both Patrick and his wife Abby exchange judgemental glances but Pat is used to it and decides to ignore them. “You wouldn’t stoop so low to consider dating a waitress” Sharp’s comment is not good natured ribbing; it’s a thinly veiled accusation and disapproval of Pat’s life choices.

“Why not?” Pat says “Just because I’ve been with actors, models, dancers and a few celebrities, doesn’t mean I discriminate in gender or occupation, Patrick” He doesn’t; it makes no difference if they’re nice or wealthy or famous. Patrick never stays long enough for those things to matter.

“I don’t think that girl would appreciate the kind of ‘relationships’ you form, sweetie” Abby says “Not everyone is as ‘open’ as you” she tries very politely to not call him a man whore who doesn’t see the same person twice; she’s tactful like that. It won’t do any good to argue that he’s very clear and upfront with all his partners, that he makes sure they understand what he has to offer and what he likes to keep for himself.

“Just because you two think that marriage equals happiness doesn’t mean that it’s how everyone should live” Pat is getting defensive. He’s single and loves it, he doesn’t want to have to apologize for his life choices, and he has his mother guilt tripping him enough. He didn’t even have to pay the obscene amount of dollars for his therapist to tell him that. He ended their sessions half way through his second one because he knew what had caused his detachment and being always true to himself he decided he quite preferred it that way.

“I just don’t get it! You are like the most obsessed match maker I know!” Sharp says “You pay for a week’s worth vacation every year just so you can set your friends up! You’ve been marrying your friends off one by one! How can you not want that for yourself?”

It’s true. Every year on November 19, his birthday, Pat hosts a party and sends two of his friends on a schemed ‘adventure’ to meet and fall in love. “I get the fulfilment I need by watching you guys be happy” Pat replies and it’s mostly true. He does want his friends to have a great life; just because he learned too young that he’ll never be enough for anyone doesn’t mean other people don’t have that chance. “It worked for Bryan, and it worked for Marian as well. If I didn’t like Patrick so much I’d have my name changed to Cupid!” he prefers to turn everything into a joke, it gets him out of the tough spot.

“Patrick is indeed a great name” Sharp has no choice but to agree.

“Not that your friends don’t appreciate your efforts, sweetie” Abby clearly doesn’t want to drop the subject “but there is a simpler way for them to meet and fall in love. You don’t have to resort on abandoned islands and long lost jungles to get them together. Someone might get hurt in the end, injured, heartbroken or worse. You can’t always make guarantees in life Pat.”

Pat hates that Abby talks in that soft tone, she’s usually very forthcoming with him. It unsettles him that she’s trying so hard to not be offensive “Are you trying to make me stop my adventures?”

“I can’t make you, Pat, but I’d rather you did”

“My friends will be disappointed if I do”

“Not all of your friends” Patrick chimes in. “You already do enough for them, Pat. I’m not even talking about the presents and the parties. We know how much you help, your ‘adventures’ aren’t really necessary” Here comes the philanthropist part, the one Patrick doesn’t want to talk about. He doesn’t do it to get credit; he does it because he genuinely cares.

“They are” Pat insists. It started kind of accidentally. He wanted to give Sharp and Abby a little peace and quiet after their first daughter’s birth. Abby had a tough pregnancy and an even tougher labour and the first six months until the baby settled into a routine they were both exhausted and drained.

The fun he had planning it, the excitement and satisfaction at their glowing faces when they returned made him try it for his parent’s anniversary and then his sister’s graduation. Somewhere between that and hours of watching LOST and Survivor he came up with the idea of matchmaking adventure ‘holidays’. He was good at it and it worked. People fell in love, got married, had babies and Pat knew how good it felt to have a hand in that. “I’m not going to stop”

“You need a reality check Patrick. Yes, the thought is lovely, the cunning ways are not. You send people in deserted places and even though you make sure there are enough provisions you can’t guarantee an accident free holiday, or people getting stuck together with someone they’d potentially dislike. You can’t force people like that.  If you only knew what it was like in one of your ‘adventures’, you’d change your mind”

Pat doesn’t know why Abby acts like that, it’s not Pat’s fault that there was a hurricane or that Abby was careless enough to stomp her foot on a trunk and sprain her ankle. His plan for their getaway was impeccable.  They, although reluctantly, admitted it was –almost- perfect “I wouldn’t mind living an adventure” Pat says sulking

“Really?” Patrick asks

“Be careful what you’re going to answer” Abby says, it sounds like a warning but Pat brushes it off.

“Of course! It would be so much fun” Pat says gleefully. No one would even bother to arrange something that awesome for him though. Not that his friends don’t love him enough, they just have more pressing matters than obsess about Pat’s entertainment. Plus, falling in love is nowhere near Pat’s plans for the future.

“I’m glad to hear you say that” Patrick comments with a mischief that reminds Pat the way Sharp used to be before he got too busy with work, wife and two, very lovely, kids.

The cute waitress comes to refill their coffee cups and her gaze lingers on Pat’s face; maybe with recognition or interest but Pat doesn’t care either way. It’s been too long since the last time anything fascinated him enough to make an effort.

His younger years he was always judged and came up short, not tall enough, too weird looking, too scrawny, too geeky for anyone to take an interest. It hurt at the beginning until he found something he excelled at and made himself a fortune. The change was only superficial, better hair, better clothes, more prestige, more confidence and arrogance but deep inside the same shy, geeky, hurt kid who just wanted someone to see him behind all the labels.

He just stopped hoping when they’ve never even begun to try.

 

 

 

 

 

Jonny ignores the sweat that’s dripping and stinging his eyes, the way his palms slide on the handle and the fact that his hair tickle the outer shell of his ear in favour of lowering his pick one more time in the ground. Every muscle in his body hurts and his naked back aches and flares even though the sun is taking a dive in the horizon but Jonny needs a few more strokes to get the soil ready. He won’t stop until he’s satisfied. He takes pride in his products because he works hard and delivers only the best organic vegetables in the whole Manitoba area. He’s not conceited, he’s just that good. He doesn’t say it out loud and still after three years blushes when people compliment him but the pride that swells in his chest even if it never finds a way out is reward enough. Quality doesn’t always guarantee profit though and Jonny can’t afford anything but the best; he can’t afford much of anything in all honesty.

He doesn’t mind that much that every night his whole body aches, that he has to resort to salves to sooth the pain and the burn or that his palms are rough and calloused. Jonny is not afraid of hard work, he thrives from it.

“Hey, boss, are we done yet?” PK is already whipping the sweat of his body with his T-shirt and Jonny’s hand is itching to reach in his back pocket to find his own and get the same relief but Jonny’s mind is stronger than to succumb to his body’s weaknesses.

“Go on, _Pernell_ ” he stresses because he knows PK hates the use of his given name “You’re useless at this point anyway. You’ve been digging in the same spot since Price started the roping”

PK has the decency to look sheepish at least “Sorry, boss” he mumbles

“Go on, go. The Sharps might need your help with the shoot anyway.”

“You should stop for the day, Jonny. You’ve been out here for too long”

“I’m fine. I’ll be done in a while”

“Boss” PK tries again; he can see the slump of Jonny’s shoulders, his muscles tensing and his knees giving way  

“I’m fine! Just a couple more ploughs and I’ll be done.”

“If you’re not back in fifteen minutes I’m seeking Brent after you” PK threatens

“I don’t need a keeper but you definitely need your job, so I wouldn’t threaten the boss if I were you” it’s an empty threat of course but Jonny hates to be mothered and all his men are overly protective of him in a suffocating way.

PK puts his hands up in defence, not that Jonny can see it. He doesn’t let the pick out of his hand and doesn’t take his eyes away from the task not even for a moment. The digging sound still echoes even after PK is half way off the field.

 

 

 

Jonny wishes they would be done already so they’d pack up and leave and he’d be finally free to rest. It’s not like he’s antisocial but self absorbed, vain models who think the world revolves around them just because they have pretty features is not his idea of good company after a long day. He hates that they prance around his property like their mere presence is a gift, like they’re entitled to something Jonny has worked very hard to built, but Patrick Sharp has been a good friend to him and the pay is excellent so he swallows his protest and anger, even his hurt and rents his farm once in a while for a photo shoot because this land is his pride and joy and he’s willing to compromise to see it flourish and last.

His knuckles are turning white from clenching them too hard to stop himself from ordering them the hell off his property when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He’s startled and goes rigid, suddenly his body in full alert. He only allows himself to relax a little when he hears Patrick’s voice “Hey, Jon. How are you? You look exhausted”

Sharp usually teases him, good natured mocking of course, but this time there’s genuine concern in his voice. Jonny sighs “As well as can be expected, I suppose. It’s replanting season and it takes a lot out of all of us”

“Carey was telling me you need someone to help around”

Jonny nodded. _Anyone_ he could say. Anyone capable enough, hard working and honest; he could not afford to be picky- he could not afford anything if he was being honest with himself “I’m sorry to hear about Duncan. Is he going to come back soon you reckon?”

Jonny has no idea, the seriousness of the injury was not yet determined and if Jonny wasn’t so damn scared and concerned he’d have been angry at him for being so careless. “We don’t know yet. The fall was not so severe but when the horse kicked his face...” Jonny doesn’t want to think about it but he doesn’t even have to close his eyes to see the blood sputters, teeth falling out and Duncan curling into a ball with a hysterical Andrew crying over his body.

“Andrew is gone too, I heard” Sharp comments reluctantly.

Jonny nods again “He blames himself. He was in a right state and Brandon thought it’d be best if they went away for a while”. Jonny doesn’t blame Andrew. He maybe blames himself a bit because after days of Andrew talking his ear off, pleading to be let care of the horse Jonny had finally given in and allowed it only for Andrew to just shut up.

“I want to help” Patrick says

“Thank you Patrick but I really don’t see how you could.”

“I have a friend, Patrick- Pat. He- he needs a job, badly. He’s a good guy, he just made a few wrong investments and he ended up losing everything. He needs a change of scenery and a chance to start over and rebuilt his life. I think working in your farm would be good for him”

Sharp was clearly joking. It sounded like his friend was a suit and ties kind of guy, with money he could afford to invest, or used to at least “We’re talking hard work here Patrick. You’ve seen what we do, labour work, too many hours outside, the conditions here are not ideal”

“I know. He’s not afraid of the hard work and he’s a fast learner. He’s somewhat of a genius; he just had some very bad luck lately”

Jonny is reluctant to say the least “No. I’m still paying Duncs, his medical bill... we don’t know how long it will take or when he’ll be able to return...or if. And Andrew, he might come back and I can’t... We’re doing well but not so much as to afford another salary”

“I’ll cover his pay and expenses. Minimum wage of course but I can do it”

Jonny’s jaw drops. This Patrick fellow was going to work at his farm and Jonny wouldn’t have to pay a dime for his time? It sounded too good to be true “That’s very generous of you, but why don’t you just give him the money yourself?”

“Pat is a very proud guy; he wouldn’t accept help from me. He’d see it as a hand out.”

“I respect that” he understood it as well. Even at his most difficult time, he hadn’t even accepted his parents’ offer to help; he still wouldn’t.

“It would mean so much to me and Abby if we were able to help him and you need the extra hands. It’s a win-win situation.”

That was true, but Jonny finds himself reluctant to agree. The whole situation seems weird. “Pat- he doesn’t have anywhere to live. He needs a place to stay.” Sharp continues.

Jonny feels a tug in his chest. He can’t imagine what it’d be like not having a roof over his head, nowhere to call home, still to hire and house some stranger... “He’s not picky really, he can’t afford to; he can stay in the barn if you don’t have a spare bedroom for him”

Jonny now looks horrified “I would never ask someone to stay in a barn, Patrick!”

Sharp nods his head “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. It’s just- he’s such a nice guy and I want to help him stand on his own two feet again”

“Maybe-maybe you can find him something else. Look, it’s not that I don’t want to help- it’s...I don’t even know this person and this-“ he gestures around the farm “it’s all I have and I...”

“I can give you references, people you can call” Sharp offers immediately

Jonny is torn between compassion and self preservation instincts “Look, I’ll make a few calls but I can’t guarantee that I will hire him”

“What if I pay you?” Sharp asks; he is nothing if not persistent. “Let’s say, twenty thousand, would that be acceptable?”

Jonny chokes on his spit “Twenty thousand dollars?”

“Of course!” Sharp takes out his check book “I’ll get you his salary and his expense money later”

For twenty thousand dollars Jonny would be willing to sleep in the barn himself and offer that Pat guy his own bedroom. It’s not that he is poor-not going bankrupt yet, thank God- but whatever profit he made it went back in the farm and he needs to make preparations for the winter and buy new equipment. In his line of work there are never guarantees; some money in the bank for a potential setback would make Jonny breathe easier.

“What if it doesn’t work out? Not everyone can handle the work” Jonny surprises himself for even considering this, but on the other hand it’s just temporary. Duncan would be well and back in no time- he had to! And then Andrew would return and things would get back to normal!

“If it doesn’t, you can still keep the money. Do we have a deal?”

Jonny’s love for his farm screams at him to take the money but he was never an impulsive person, he doesn’t risk his life’s work for anything or anyone; that Patrick person could be trouble. Then again...twenty thousand dollars...

“I’ll need the references” he finds himself saying.

Sharp takes out a notebook and scribbles names and numbers. He hands it to Jonny along with the check “Ask as many questions as you like, just don’t mention the money. He wouldn’t want his situation to be known. He doesn’t handle pity that well. Tell them the Sharps are sending Pat on an ‘adventure’.”

Jonny nods. He can totally understand. “What’s his last name?”

“It’s Kane but you won’t even need it. If you end up hiring him, keep the check. If not, just send it back to me.”

“We’ll see. If I do, I might be able to rearrange a few things so he can have his own room” Jonny doesn’t know why he says that, compassion probably- definitely not pity. No one deserves to be looked down on for their misfortunes.

“I still say that the barn would be enough” Sharp’s eyes have a weird glint as he says it.

Jonny shakes his head. He hasn’t been able to figure Sharp out. He can appear decent most of the time but there’s always a mischief hidden deep in his eyes that make Jonny keep his guard up around him.

With twenty thousand dollars in his hands though, maybe it’s time for Jonny to do something he forgot how to long time ago- dare to hope.

 

 

Watching the girls sleep, hair still in curls and ribbons they refused to part with, faint traces of baby make up and soft puffs of breath, remind Patrick why he takes time out of his life to visit Canada at least twice a year.

It’s not even so much that Maddy is his goddaughter; it’s more like how their eyes light up and how they cling and try to climb on him the minute he steps inside their home. It’s more like the little scribbles on the drawings they send him, Sadie’s fingerprints since she’s too young to spell, and this moment- the swell in his heart as he watches the two sweet babies sleep.

He simultaneously loves and hates it with the same passion, the longing he lets himself feel, the warmth of a _home_ , a long forgotten dream and how his heart aches for the one or two times he was fool enough to think that he might get this one day.

 He leaves a little more broken every time he visits and he hates himself for going down that path again, because he swore to himself he’d never be that weak again. Patrick lets out a heavy sigh. In a few hours this will be but a memory. He’ll go back to Buffalo and schedule a ton of meetings; he’ll hit the clubs on the weekend and lose himself in meaningless bodies to bury that star eyed kid a little further inside.

  He can’t really remember Veronica’s face that well but he remembers being left alone in the middle of the dance floor, the pity in everyone’s eyes and the kiss he didn’t get a chance to taste. Kevin’s face is still a blur in his mind, head fuzzed by painkillers and a freshly operated wrist, with no more hockey and the boy on boy intimacy he never got a chance to feel. He remembers Lisa clearly though, the way she flipped her hair as she thanked him for the stats notes and the fake apology she spewed for not being available to date since she already had a boyfriend.

What is crystal clear even now is all the insults about his ears and his goofy face and his weird teeth, his height and his body mass that wasn’t adequate for anything. He can recall all nights he spend over his books and all the love he exchanged with numbers and percentages. They were the only things that gave something back to him, that appreciated his efforts and his heart’s work and rewarded him for his passion and dedication.

He doesn’t remember his first time, because it meant nothing to him; just alcohol haze, skin and sweat. He had countless nights like that. After a while he even preferred it that way. He was Patrick Kane the Second, boy genius and billionaire. He settled for that being enough; the risk wasn’t worth it anymore.

The keys on the door fill him with relief. It’s time to go home and pull himself back together.

“Hey, Pat” Abby greets as Patrick exits the girls’ room and makes his way in the living room “Are they asleep? I hope they didn’t cause you any trouble”

Pat smiles at her “Everything was fine. We had a makeover and ate mac and cheese. They went out like a light”

“Well, since we missed the makeover” Sharp trails off and grabs a couple of bags and a scissor.

Patrick frowns as Sharp sheds clothes on the couch and starts cutting the labels off. Abby takes those that are already done and hands them to Pat.

“What are these?” he asks puzzled

“These are your new clothes”

Patrick’s frowns deepens “I don’t understand”

“It’s time to get a taste of your own medicine my friend” Sharp chimes in with a huge smile that leaves all his perfect teeth exposed and scares the hell out of Pat. “You’ll get to see that everything is not fun and games buddy and realise that you have to stop messing with people’s lives”

“Why would I stop when I know that I help my friends find happiness?” Pat asks petulantly.

“We’re your friends, per your conviction that means we know what’s best for you- unless you changed your mind about that”

Pat starts to feel a little hurt and insulted because every one of his plans worked and all the parties involved are currently happy and in love “I’m right”

“Fine! Then prove it! Go on an ‘adventure’” Sharp’s smug expression gets on Pat’s nerves. Abby stays in a corner silent like she doesn’t have a hand in this- the hypocrite!

Pat is ready to decline on the spot. They don’t understand that the purpose of Pat’s scheduled adventures is not trickery or punishment, that it doesn’t have an ulterior motive other than his genuine care for his friends’ well being. This feels like they’re trying to teach him a lesson when the results show that Pat’s doings have brought nothing but happiness to those involved. Additionally, it’s not like Sharp would even know how to arrange something as awesome as Pat’s ‘vacations’!

Just to spite them and wipe that smirk off Sharp’s face and get them off his back once and for all Pat agrees to do it “Fine! I’ll do it! But when I come back _victorious_ , I’m sending you two on a little vacation!”

Abby’s face drops and Pat can taste something like sweet revenge in his mouth. Sharp seems unfazed but Pat is certain he’ll succumb to his will at last.

“Don’t worry, baby” Sharp sooths “he hasn’t won yet.” He turns to Pat and extends his hand “Hand over your wallet and your cell phone”

Pat thinks to disagree but he already made the bet and he’s not one to back out of a deal so he hands it over and waits for what comes next.

Sharp grabs a few bills from the wallet and gives them to Patrick “Here’s the deal. You’re broke, you have nothing more than these twenty bucks, you’ve gone bankrupt and you’re homeless. You’ve been sleeping in our spare room for the last few weeks but it’s time to get back on your feet. For the next month, you’ll be working on a farm and spend only what you’ve earned from that”

“A whole month? In a farm?” Pat doesn’t just sound appalled, he really is. He can’t picture himself milking cows and feeding animals or picking up berries or whatever it is they do in the farm. It’s not like he has a vast agricultural knowledge.

“The worker who was injured isn’t very likely to come back before that so yes, a month. If you quit or get fired before the time is up you automatically lose the bet. Same goes for spending money you didn’t earn there or if you tell anyone the truth. It’s simple really.”

It really is not. He can tell by how Sharp’s eyes shine and the extra smugness of his expression “And when I win?” Pat is a statistic genius, he can figure that the odds are not in his favour but he’s not giving in.

“ _If_ you make it a month and no one finds out the truth then we get off your back about your life choices”

“And I plan a getaway for you two” Pat insists.

The Sharp’s exchange a look and Patrick shrugs. Finally Abby gives a slow nod “Fine.” Sharp scoffs. “Do we have a deal?”

“Wait- What happens if they Google my name? I’m quite famous you know” he’s not conceited-much- it’s a simple truth.

“You’re not pretending to be someone you’re not Patrick” Abby finally decides to speak “You’re still Patrick Kane, your past accomplishments have not vanished. If they ask, tell them your bankruptcy has not been announced yet, that your lawyer is working on salvaging whatever he can and the matter is out of your hands”

“Are they gonna buy that? What kind of person jumps out of a sinking boat?” If that was ever to happen to him, he’d be there in the front lines fighting tooth and nails to save whatever he could.

“You’re neither a lawyer nor an accountant sweetie. There’s nothing you could possibly do to help”

“I guess” he relents. He’s not convinced but he doesn’t have a choice either. “So when do I start?”

“Tomorrow” Sharp announces and in the silence of the night it sounds like a death sentence to Patrick. Or he’s overly dramatic. Either way,

it’s showtime!


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

  Patrick doesn’t mind the early wake up, even if it took two cups of coffee to be fully functional, he doesn’t even mind he had to return his rental car, but being left by the bus- _the bus-_ in the middle of nowhere with nothing more than a flannel shirt and a jacket he suspects was purchased in a thrift shop and a half full duffle bag is somewhat unnerving.

It isn’t that he doesn’t know about cold, he is from Buffalo after all, even this kind, the one that pierces through the layers of clothing right into your bones while the sun fools you enough to believe that spring is actually here. It’s not that he is a snob either, or even very pampered-it just reminds him of years he tried to leave behind; Hockey camps, team buses and open ice rinks; pocket money and birthday cash stashed away to buy sticks and skates rather than jeans and trainers. It brings back memories of shuttered hopes and unfulfilled expectations; it reminds him of why his mansion houses nothing more than his loneliness; because he gave up long ago the thrill of the unfamiliar.

A Toyota silver pickup truck comes to a stop in front of him “Are you Patrick?” the guy, with an admittedly ridiculous beige hat, asks

Pat’s on alert but the genuine smile on the guy’s face for some reason makes him relax involuntarily “Yes” he says and on second thought that seems cold. “Patrick Kane” he extends his hand.

The guy laughs “PK” he says, extending his hand over the window and shakes it.

“Yeah, I guess” Patrick shrugs, he has been called worse, namely by his sisters who insist on calling him Patty or Paddy which he hates.

The guy laughs even louder and Pat’s sure he hears a snort somewhere in there “We can go with that, if that’s how you roll but I don’t think it’ll be convenient”

Patrick is more puzzled now and the guy can’t stop grinning “ _I’m_ PK” the guy- PK offers “don’t ask me what it stands for” he’s still smiling but his last words are more of a command than a suggestion “Hop in. I’ll take you to the farm”

Patrick opens the door and climbs in settling his duffle bag on his lap. It’s not that comfortable but for some reason he finds solace clutching to it “Thank you for the opportunity” Pat says, partly because Sharp ‘advised’ him to be on his best behaviour and partly because –unlike what Sharp thinks- his mother did raise him with manners.

PK laughs a bit more and Patrick doesn’t think he ever met a person who just wouldn’t stop smiling “I’m not the owner, dude. I just work for him”

“Oh” he says foolishly because he doesn’t really know what to say. “Sorry-“ he doesn’t even know why he’s apologizing but he’s sure he just made a lousy first impression “it’s just that Patrick-Sharp, he said the owner would, you know meet me here”

“Yeah, Jon was supposed to but Etienne had a rough night and he had to stay behind”

Patrick assumes he’s talking about an animal and though he finds the name odd and maybe a bit pretentious he’s not that curious to know more “OK”

PK slugs him playfully on the arm and Pat does his best not to wince “Relax, man. We’re all nice people up there”

Finally a topic he does want to know more about “Are there many workers?”

“Jon-the owner, myself, Carey, Brent and Duncan-he’s the guy you’ll be replacing-“

“Sharp told me he had an accident”

PK nods and for a second his smile falters “Ash got scared and kicked him in the face”

Patrick doesn’t hide the wince this time “Ash?”

“Ash is Carey’s horse” PK says and it sounds something like ‘the Queen is in the house’, something between awe and pride. “Andrew-he used to work with us, he didn’t know, he tried to pet the horse in the face, along his nose and the poor thing got startled and- you can imagine the rest”

“No, not really” Patrick admits “I don’t know much about them”

“That’s OK, none of us really do. We only have Ash and he’s actually Carey’s” there’s that soft tone again and Patrick can’t decide if it’s because of Ash or Carey. “We don’t have that many animals. Carey has a steer as well-he’s into roping” Patrick wishes that it’s some kind of sport and not some weird kink “There’s a cow and a pig and a couple of hens-and Ace, he’s Etienne’s pet bunny. Don’t call him a rabbit and never, ever call him it”

Apparently Etienne is not an animal “Who’s Etienne?”

“Didn’t Sharp tell you anything about the farm?”

Patrick shakes his head “No, not really. He said one of the workers was injured and you guys needed help and as I needed a job-“there’s a sting somewhere inside as the lie rolls off his tongue. PK seems like a genuinely nice guy but Pat needs to win a bet and he doesn’t do sentiments anyway so he files it away as temporary misguided guilt. He’s not here to make friends.

“Etienne is Jon’s nephew” it’s short and sharp and Pat’s senses a story there but he doesn’t ask.

PK stays silent after that and Patrick makes no effort to engage in conversation. They ride the rest of the way like that.

 

 

 

 Patrick didn’t know what to expect, his farm knowledge came from movies and his sister’s paperback novels (they were snowed in and he was bored- shut up) but he surely could never imagine this: A two story rustic cottage, the structure clearly old but well cared for, freshly painted, with a porch and a swing, and a flower patch across the driveway. It doesn’t scream money or lack thereof, it seems like it could smell of freshly baked bread and Sunday barbeques, filled with sounds of tiny wet footprints and laughter. Patrick decides to hate it on the spot to avoid the imminent danger of falling hopelessly in love with it.  

He goes to move towards the house but PK stops him “Wait here, I’ll let Jon know”

Patrick nods but can’t help feel a little offended. He has access to the most private clubs and he gets denied entrance in a house? He should have known Sharp was doing this to humiliate him.

It takes him about a minute to reconsider and silently thank Sharp-not that he’d ever admit it out loud- when a dark haired man walks out the door. He’s wearing a pair of faded jeans and a blue plaid shirt, unbuttoned obscenely at the top and the way he wipes his hands with the rag makes his biceps stretch the fabric. Patrick has an urge to yell ‘Hallelujah’ but he recovers immediately. There’s a target to focus on and this fine specimen of a man could only be a distraction he can’t afford. Unfortunately he’s not blind, so as the man steps down he can’t help but focus on his thighs that seem to want to rip the seams apart. 

 The man’s eyes focus on him and Pat has the urge to grasp his chest. Two black coals are trying to pierce through him and find all the shadowy corners he hides his secrets, that’s what it feels like. Patrick feels like fleeing. He wants to turn around and leave, bet be damned.

“I’m Jonathan Toews. Welcome to my farm” Jon says and extends his hand.

Patrick is startled by the emotionless but smooth voice. It sounds like a rehearsed introduction, not pleasure not boredom just formality.

He swallows the lump in his throat and takes the hand. Big mistake- Jon’s palm is calloused and rough but his touch is both firm and smooth somehow. “I’m Patrick- Kane. Thank you for the opportunity”

Jon just nods, gaze unwavering “You will stay in the play room, it’s not much but it’s the only thing available. PK’s working on the additional cabins but they won’t be ready for a couple of months, so-“ it’s the first sign of discomfort and Patrick feels bad for the guy.

“That’s OK. I don’t need much anyway” it’s the truth, he doesn’t- the luxury he offers himself is not of necessity “I don’t mean to cause any trouble though- maybe I can- where did your other worker lived? The one who got injured? Maybe I can crash there”

Jon recoils as he’d been slapped “No”

“Oh, OK.” he is one weird dude, that’s for sure

“Come settle in, we’ve wasted enough time already” Jon walks towards the door not waiting on him or looking back to see if Patrick follows.

There’s a pillow and a blanket on the swing and a mud covered ball next to the door. Jon bends down to take off his boots and it’s not Pat’s fault his eyes wander on the guy’s ass...it’s huge! he couldn’t have missed it if he tried. Jon doesn’t seem to notice though “You don’t have to for now, but I’ll appreciate it if you managed it at some point”

Patrick’s a little confused at first but realises that Jon is talking about the no-shoes-in-the-house Canadian habit. “Yes, of course” he replies and wonders if by now everyone thinks he’s dumb, unable to form more than a few word sentences.

The inside is a bit of a contradiction; wood and stone, kitchen living room open plan, fireplace and minimalist furniture- urban and countryside fusion. Nothing extravagant but nothing worthless either. If someone had described it to him, Patrick wouldn’t have thought it a good combination but here, it just worked. It was classy and definitely handled with care. Wide open spaces that didn’t scream alienation, rather they radiated warmth and _home_. Not a house of four walls, floor and ceilings but cosiness, snugness and comfort.

As if this idyllic setting wasn’t enough, tiny footsteps echo in the room. Patrick is pretty sure he’s living his worst nightmare or his deepest, most hidden longing he can’t be sure at this point.

“Papa” a screeching voice calls and Jonathan freezes on his spot, clearly alarmed. A dark haired boy rushes in the room, dishevelled brown hair and muddy palms. The boy’s bright blue eyes widen as he sees Patrick and halts.

“Ce qui est faux, mon pote? What’s wrong, buddy?” Jon asks, voice dripping with concern. Patrick isn’t sure if the added English is for his benefit or if it’s a teaching method on bilingual kids but even though his French is practically nonexistent he’s absolute certain the boy just called Jonathan dad. He’s not going to ponder on just how much emotion or softness Jon radiated towards the boy in one simple question because this is not the time of all times for Patrick’s locked sensitivities to finally break away.

The boy says nothing; instead he plasters himself on Jon’s side and hides behind him. Patrick’s ready to panic when a hesitant little head tries to peek at him behind Jon.

 Jonathan’s looking down on the boy, clearly amused and ruffles his hair “Etienne” he says but it sounds more like ‘Ay-tsyen’ to Patrick’s ears, different pronunciation than how PK said it. How bad would it make him if he admitted that he found Jon’s continuing use of French hot? “This is Patrick. Remember how we said he’s going to help until Duncan gets better?”

The boy narrows his eyes at Patrick, a clear disapproval but nods anyway “What do we say, Etienne?” Jon’s voice sounds a little firmer now

“Hello” Etienne greets

Patrick smiles, wide and bright and offers his hand without moving closer, giving Etienne a chance to approach him only if he wants. Etienne hesitates and looks at Jonathan, pleadingly Patrick thinks. Jon holds his gaze but makes no motion. Etienne stares back at him for a second, then at Patrick, then back at Jon, turns and leaves the way he came.

Jon sighs and runs his palm through his face “Please excuse him” he apologizes “he had a rough night”

“That’s fine” Pat replies “I mean that I don’t mind...I’m not offended that is, not that he-“he’s stuttering for no apparent reason, it’s not nerves not even awkwardness or anything identifiable.

Patrick thinks he saw the corner of Jon’s mouth twitch but that could have been an illusion but now that he checked he can’t help himself but wonder how soft his lips would be if he kissed him. The weirdest part of all it’s not that he finds Jon attractive; it’s that he finds him... interesting, in a I-want-to-sit-by-the-fireplace-and-listen-to-your-life-story rather than let’s-get-naked-now. It’s the eyes, he decides; they have something familiar but he can’t really place it.

“Over here” Jon points to a corridor and starts to walk towards it as if Patrick hasn’t just embarrassed himself “is your room” he continues as if he’s sure Pat follows. “There’s a single bed and a chest of drawers. There’s a WC right beside the room so if you need to shower you can use the master bathroom upstairs.”

Patrick nods as Jon turns his head to see if Pat is listening to him. “Tell me about your farm” he asks as Jonathan is about to turn the door handle.

“We have about one hundred and forty acres of land. The ones far left are being tilled to renew the soil for the fall planting. Currently, we’re working on the middle fields planting aubergines, artichokes and onions; on the right we’re sowing kale, leeks, spinach and peas. Brent is covering the greenhouse because we’re doing both sowing and planting there”

Jonathan pauses and watches Patrick’s wide eyes, Pat’s pretty sure he reads the terror in them. “You do know I’ve never worked at a farm before, right?”

Jon nods “I know. Sharp mentioned it and weirdly enough so did the people I called for references”

“You asked for-“Patrick doesn’t finish the question because it’s stupid anyway “Of course you did, sorry”

 “We may have been understaffed even before the incident but I wasn’t going to allow a complete stranger into my home, especially with Etienne under the same roof. I know it’s a lot of work and you’re inexperienced but Sharp assured me you do not fear hard work. If you can’t handle this-“

Patrick will not get fired before he even begins to work “No-no. I- I can’t promise I’ll be good at it but I’ll try. I don’t mind the work, I swear. I’ll just need someone to show me.”

“PK is going to help Carey and Brent will handle the greenhouse. You’ll start with me. I’ll explain everything to you and I’ll answer all your questions. I don’t have the luxury of time, unfortunately so you need to be quick but also efficient.”

“I’ll try my best” Patrick says and he finds himself actually meaning it. From what he gathered, there is a heavy work load and not enough employees, plus a kid who needs special attention and apparently not enough time or money either to ease things up. He’s been employed by the underdog of farming he guesses and he always had a soft spot for the dark horse- in fact he’s been one all his life.

“Good” Jon says “I needed to be on the field two hours ago. Get yourself settled and come find me outside. Don’t take long” it sounds more like a request than a command but there’s firmness behind it as well and Patrick suspects that working with Jonathan Toews would be anything but easy.

 

 

 

The room reminds Patrick of his childhood bedroom; plastic boxes stuffed with toys huddled in a corner, deflated ball pool and colourful plastic balls all tucked together, a Lego box and a playmobil castle, a couple playmats folded neatly and above all two shelves that hold books, some in English and some in French, a cd player and a handful of cds. The lacks of gear and wall posters of hockey legends are what’s missing to be taken back to a time when he, himself was little. Ok, his sisters’ tea set and dolls as well but it’s not like they actually belong to Patrick, they just commandeered his room and forced him to play with him. That’s his story and he’s sticking with it!

The single bed is barely enough to fit him and if he had but a half full duffle bag the dresser wouldn’t be able to fit all his belongings. What it tells Pat is that he invaded someone’s space. No, not someone’s-Etienne’s. Maybe that’s why the boy wanted nothing to do with Patrick, because he was the reason he had to give something of his up. Having grown up with three sisters Pat was not unfamiliar with sharing but he still held possession of some items that were restrictively his and until this day he’s very proprietary about his personal space so he can understand and even justify Etienne’s behaviour.

As soon as the uncomfortable feeling settles in, Patrick feels sick. It isn’t just the fact that he practically run a kid out of his playroom but also because since the moment he stepped foot on this farm long lost feelings seem to creep up on him and Pat is terrified by them. He runs through his head the improbabilities of a house and people he never met before could have such an impact in such a short time and for the first time in his whole life the math don’t add up.

 He shakes his head because he doesn’t have enough time to think about this and if he wants to be true to himself he really doesn’t want to ponder on it. He’s no stranger to repressing emotions so he just drops his jacket on the bed and shoves his few belongings in the drawers and the now empty duffel on its side. Patrick is a master at deflecting, he’s a level headed, strong, independent adult who doesn’t need emotional complications in his well structured life; feelings get you hoping and hoping gets you a broken heart and long sleepless nights with tears in your eyes wondering where you went wrong. 

He wills himself together and walks out the room, into the living room folding his shirt sleeves and meets Etienne at the door. He’s not sure how to approach him; does he try to hold a conversation or does he ignore the kid and go out in the field?

He dismisses the second though as cruel and takes a deep breath “You alright there buddy?” he asks softly.

Etienne doesn’t turn to look at him but nods. Patrick crouches down at his height “I’m sorry I took over your room”

The boy does turn to look at him at that, frowning but still silent. “Your playroom? I’m sorry you had to put all your toys away so I can sleep there. Thank you” he adds.

The boy takes him by surprise when he just shrugs. Patrick sighs, kind of the way Jon did when Etienne refused to give anything other than a forced hello to Pat. “How old are you?” he asks, clearly the boy understands him but maybe he’s too young to form complicated sentences; not every kid is able to speak properly at the same age, he knows.

The question seems to make Etienne uncomfortable for some reason yet he holds up his hand and raises four fingers. As soon as he does though, he puts one finger down then bringing it up again half crouched “Three and a half?” Pat guesses; it’s not that complicated really.

The tension seems to ease up a little from the boy’s shoulders and he nods vigorously “That’s great!” Patrick says because he doesn’t know what else to do. “I have to go to work now but it was nice meeting you, Etienne and I’m sorry about your room” he continues as he raises a hand to card at his hair.

Etienne’s eyes seem to be transfixed to Pat’s wrist and follow his movement and Pat stops midway there, suddenly realizing what the boy is looking at. The scar on his wrist hasn’t been red and puffed in years but it’s still there prominent as ever and he hadn’t let himself feel self conscious about it for so long, yet somehow the boy’s piercing eyes makes him want to tuck it away.

“You have angels, too?” he hears Etienne ask quietly and Pat is puzzled both by the question and the fact that Etienne is willingly talking to him.

He tries to ask what he means but the boy surprises him once more as he pulls up his sleeve and reveals two large scars on his upper arm. Patrick’s eyes sting from the sight; they’re deep and long and he’s sure that the upper one descends further inside the boy’s shirt.

“Maman and papa” Etienne says pointing at his scars “They angels”

Patrick’s throat closes at the implications and his heart tightens in his chest. He shakes his head because he can feel the tears coming and he’s not about to cry over the little boy’s misery because the last thing this kid needs is pity, from a stranger no less. He traces his own scar with his finger and looks up at the boy whose blue eyes are staring back expectantly.

“No, buddy” Patrick says “but-I lost something that meant a lot to me and all I have left is this scar”

Etienne seems to try to wrap his mind around his answer and a moment later he steps forward and wraps his little hands around Patrick.

Pat freezes on the spot. Etienne’s little hands squeeze with as much strength as they allow and he detaches himself from him walking away once again.

Pat is left abashed and it takes him much effort to stand up and turn to head out. His shocked expression, no matter how bad he thinks it might look he bets it doesn’t come close to Jonathan’s clenched jaw and wide eyes from where he’s rooted on the porch.

Pat stands there petrified, not knowing how to react or what to say; he just stares at Jonathan who is still looking back at him with those piercing dark eyes. He opens his mouth to apologize?, explain? he doesn’t know but Jon beats him to it “Middle field!” he says “NOW” and as quietly as he had approached he turns his back and dashes.

Pat can’t help but wonder what exactly did Sharp get him into.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Patrick walks past the left field where another dark-haired guy works feverishly; he assumes it’s Carey since Brent was supposed to be working in the greenhouse but he doesn’t slow down to take a look or say hello. He has already angered Jonathan somehow and the last thing he wants is to make it worse.

It’s a good thing he stays in shape because the walk to the middle field is not short. He finds Jon ploughing with such determination and focus that radiates commitment and dedication. It’s silly how a few simple moves in the ground makes him think that but it’s just the way Jon’s carrying his body, how his eyes never leave the target and even if his hands work hurriedly there’s a consistency in their moves, a pattern he’s not straying from.

Pat can work with patterns, he understands them; math are built in structure and formulas make sense to him. He can keep up with the physical aspect as well he thinks. More like wishes actually, since he has never held a rake in his life, or whatever tool it is they use; he has a gardener for that.

He stands at the edge of the field and coughs loudly to get Jon’s attention. Jonathan keeps working without as much as flinching and Pat coughs again a little bit louder. Jon ignores him again in favour of another stroke in the soil.

“I’m here” he announces in case his coughs were subtle enough to be missed

“I’ll be sure to add a gold star for your efforts” Jon replies dryly.

Pat chooses to ignore the sarcasm because ‘what the hell is your problem’ is not a good opening line when you’re speaking to your boss- or so he thinks anyway, it’s not like he’d ever been anyone else’s employee in his life.

It takes a couple of minutes more for Jon to put his spade away (at least that’s what Pat think it’s called, he’s not a hundred percent sure though) and make his way to him. He still remains silent even as he picks a different equipment and hands it to Patrick.

“You’ll use this to dig holes in the ground. Each one must be 4 inches deep and at least 6 to 8 inches apart so the plants have plenty of room to grow. Normally, after each hole is done we do the seeding but we’re way too far behind today to show you how it’s done. Start with the digging and when I finish my part I’ll start planting here.”

Patrick just looks at him wondering how more time consuming that will be instead of just showing Pat what to do.

“You do know how to dig, right?” Jon asks incredulously “It’s not rocket science”

Pat is actually offended by that. He’s sick and tired of being underestimated but he swallows the bitter words that itch to leave his tongue “I do. I was just wondering if maybe it’ll save us time if you just showed me how to do it myself”

He can’t exactly decipher Jon’s look but at least it doesn’t project anger “It’s fine for now. Just focus on digging.”

“Ok, ready to be your right hand” Pat jokes to ease the tension

“Mine works just fine, thanks” Jon flexes and twists his wrist as he replies and it’s sharp and dry but Pat can’t help but chuckle at the out of context connotation of that phrase and gesture.

Jon’s frown makes Patrick realize that it was an unintended pun but the light shade of pink that appears on Jonathan’s ears after a few beats tells him he finally understood how it sounded and why Pat’s focus was on his hand. Patrick doesn’t call him out on it and drops the subject completely.

He takes his tool in hand and starts digging. He tries to copy Jon’s movements as much as he can remember them but he finds it a bit difficult. The tool weighs too much on his unused hands and the force with which he digs hurts his wrists but he keeps going.

He doesn’t know how much time passes but he hears Jon calling out to him “You’re not digging for a treasure dimwit! I said 4 inches deep, any further and we’ll find oil!”

Patrick feels his cheeks flame. He’s so embarrassed he has to bite the inside of his mouth not to let any of it show on his face. He doesn’t deserve that kind of talk. Sure, he doesn’t know how to do it but there are better ways of informing him of his mistake than that. Instead of a justified cursing, Pat opts to mumble a tensed ‘sorry’ and steps away to work on the next hole.

He hesitates this time and watches carefully the distance of the previous row and after an exasperated huff from Jon’s side he starts to dig again. When he thinks he’s done with that he checks again with the last one to make sure he got it right this time but it’s not like he can measure it correctly by sight alone. He figures Jon can but he’s the experienced one. He can feel the justifiable rage swell inside him again and he hates that he gets emotionally affected. He thought he was way past being measured and found wanting.

“You can’t actually drill a hole with your eyes you know, no matter how hard you try” Jon’s harsh voice is like a bucket of cold water in his head “Move the fuck on, we don’t have all day”

Patrick grinds his teeth and moves on to the next one and the next one and every time he does there’s an insult coming from Jon’s way. Pat’s wrists are cramping, the sweat falls into his eyes and makes them sting and his damp hair sticks on to his forehead. He ignores the pain in his muscles but that bitterness in his tongue is hard to swallow.

When the sweat is too much to handle he drops his tool and uses his sleeves to wipe it off and flexes his wrist and fingers to gain his blood flow again “This isn’t a beauty pageant, goldilocks. Toughen up” is what he hears Jonathan say and he doesn’t get the rest of it because his ears are ringing probably from his blood pressure skyrocketing.

He doesn’t stop to think, he turns to Jon and unleashes all his hurt and anger “What the hell is your problem, dude? I’m trying!” he yells

“Try harder” comes the reply

“I’m doing the best I can”

“Your best is not good enough!”

Patrick falters for a second and moments of hearing those words before flash before his eyes. He hates that the next words that come out of his mouth are wobbly “Fuck you!” he screams “What did I ever do to you to deserve this?” he pauses for a minute as Jon comes closer and is faced with wild dark eyes “You know what? Fuck it! And fuck you, you asshole! No wonder you’re understaffed! Who the hell would want to work with you anyway?”

He doesn’t know why he does this; he never gives up without a fight, but somehow this fucker is getting under his skin and Patrick can’t deal with it, bet be damned. He turns to leave before the tears spill from his eyes and loses the last shred of dignity he still possesses.

“So that’s it? You quit?” Jonathan asks and it makes Patrick stop dead in his tracks.

He turns to face Jon “What the hell do you want from me?”

“Be better!” Jon all but commands

“Excuse me?” Patrick is so confused

“I want you to be better, to try harder. They said you would. They told me you had a great work ethic, that you’re meticulous and efficient and that you won’t let go until you reach your goal. That’s why I hired you!”

“You hired me because you were desperate and I accepted because I thought slavery was abolished and abuse was punishable by law” Patrick’s voice is hoarse from screaming but he feels the tension leave his body bit by bit every time he yells.  Who knew fighting could be therapeutic?

“Oh, you’re a comedian as well! Ha ha ha” Jon mocks him “You accepted because you fucked up and had no other choice”

Patrick sees red “Fuck off!” it’s not like it’s the truth but if it was, that’s a shitty thing to say to someone who supposedly had lost everything.

“Eloquent. If you’re this smart it’s no wonder you’re left with nothing” Jon’s face turns purple from screaming and with every accusation he gets closer and closer to Patrick.

Patrick doesn’t let himself be intimidated. “Wow! You’re one special kind of asshole. My stupid self could figure out that your approximately 35 acres if you divide your total by four of course, 141,640 square meters if you don’t know how to convert, are almost done by one third, 11.6 acres, that’s 46943,53 square meters, which leaves 23.3 acres, 94291,8 square meters to be dug and planted which would probably take both of us about a week’s worth of work provided the weather lets us complete a full 10 hour shift, though considering it’s still early spring my calculation can be off by a day or two, will now probably take you forever because there’s no way I’m going to work for a condescending, judgemental fucker who thinks the sun shines out of his ass. So, good luck with that and kindly go to hell!”

Patrick takes a deep breath after that rant because his lungs are all out of air and Jonathan just stares at him dumbfound. Pat doesn’t hide his smirk. He turns to leave, feeling 5 inches taller just by rendering the asshole speechless but decides to strike one last blow just to feel a little more victorious.

“Oh, and one more thing. My stupid little self also figured out that despite whatever shortcomings I might have on the farming department your damage with me is not purely about that; and since I’m not a dipshit I do apologize if I overstepped any bounders with your boy but I couldn’t just ignore a little kid when he was talking to me, especially since it was something that important. Goodbye and have a nice life.”

Patrick feels like the king of the world.

 

 

Patrick does hear Jonathan calling his name, he just chooses to ignore it because for once he didn’t stutter, he didn’t cry and he wasn’t at a loss for words, he took the hits, struck right back and left with his head held high.

Maybe his only mistake was not dashing quickly enough, pride does come with a price they say, and Jon might have missed the memo because he manages to catch up with him “Patrick, wait” he yells, out of breath “Please”

That makes Pat’s step falter but he’s not giving in-he won’t. In the end, he doesn’t really have a choice because he feels a strong hand grip his shoulder “Patrick” Jon’s voice is more quiet now, almost soft “I-I’m sorry. I was way out of line. I apologize. It’s that I-“ there’s a pause and a deep sigh, Jon’s breath warm on Patrick’s neck as he exhales. It sends a shiver through Pat’s spine and he hates that this random dude accidentally found one of his weak spots. “Can you please turn around and look at me? I’d feel better if I didn’t apologize to your back”

“Oh, sure, if it’ll make you feel better” Pat can’t help but snap, he’s not going to make it easy, he stopped being a pushover a while back.

“You’re right-I just thought that since I was looking at you when I was insulting you I’d better have the decency to apologize facing you as well, but-have it your way” it’s half the tone he says it, how disappointed he sounds at himself, and half the sentiment behind it that makes Pat turn. Jon doesn’t shy away from his responsibilities it seems, he wants to face the consequences of his actions and in Patrick’s experience very few people do. He kind of hates Jonny-why did he have to be a decent person?

He turns but doesn’t speak, he just folds his hands in front of his sternum and waits, cocking an eyebrow in what he hopes conveys annoyance.

Jon rubs his hand in the back of his neck “I’m sorry. You were right. I didn’t-“he struggles a bit and Pat can’t help but think that this man must not apologize often because he doesn’t know how to do it properly “It caught me off guard-Etienne, opening up to you like that. He hasn’t-when he was younger, we talked a lot about his parents and- he hasn’t talked to me about them in a  long time and you just came in and- he was so adamant to hate you this morning, because he thought you’re here to take Dunc’s place and- I just...we both had a difficult couple of years and...”

Jon keeps fidgeting and Pat can’t help but sympathize because he does seem to struggle in a lot of fronts but still, that’s not an excuse to talk down on anyone “and I know that’s not an excuse” Jon continues and for a moment Pat thinks that maybe he’d said it out loud “and it’s not fair, to take it out on you..Oh, God-you did not sign up to hear my sob story, I’m sorry. Just, that’s it-I’m really sorry and I hope you can forgive me and if you decide to stay I promise I do my best not to let it happen again”

Patrick has so many things he wants to say, so many questions to ask but what he finds himself saying is “Never make promises to anyone; you’ll only leave them with broken pieces and bleeding palms” 

 Jonathan’s mouth opens and closes again, probably not finding anything to response. He opens his mouth again and Pat is one second away from laughing because he looks like a goldfish in a bowl and he half expects bubbles to start forming around him but Jon’s phone ringing puts a stop to whatever it was that was coming next.

Jon takes his phone out and checks the screen; the beeping has stopped though so Pat guesses it was some kind of notification. “Look-“he says turning to Pat again “I need to go back in the house to make lunch and stay with Etienne so PK can get back to work. I’d like you to stay- to be honest you weren’t half bad at this. I don’t want to pressure you but I don’t have enough time. If you want to leave, I’ll understand. You can come back with me now or you can stay and work for about an hour or so till lunch break.”

“You trust me not to fuck it up without you here?” Pat tries to go for sarcasm but it comes out like wonderment

Jon’s mouth curls upright “You’ll do good, you’re a fast learner”

Patrick can’t help how his lips half form a smile “Alright, I’ll stay but if you ever-“

“I won’t” Jon cuts him off “I pro- I swear?”

Pat laughs “You’re one weird dude. Go, shoo, go cook or whatever just try not to poison us”

Jon looks affronted “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent cook but you’ll not get to find out because there is no place in my table for people who insult my skills”

“How about I make the final verdict after I had a taste?” Pat realises that he’s flirting, why is he flirting? Pat doesn’t flirt. Pat doesn’t even use pick up lines anymore-not most of the time anyway and definitely not to intense, Canadian, single father farmers from the middle of nowhere no matter how cute they are flustered.

 Jon seems to think about it for a moment “Deal” he says and extends his hand. Pat already made that mistake once today he’s not going to fall in that trap again. There’s no time for the contracting feeling of the calloused softness of Jon’s palm, of the heated contact it’d create.

“Go be responsible boss” he says with whatever self preservation he has left “and be ready to feed us. I just hope you won’t regret leaving me alone here”

“Never hope, Patrick” is what Jonathan says in all seriousness “Hope is for the fool and the dreamers and we can’t afford to be either”

 

 

Patrick dug and dug until his palms were full of blisters and then he dug some more because the sun hadn’t set yet and no one told him to stop. It was a matter of pride if nothing else. He didn’t want anyone thinking him weak even if his muscles hurt and his palms bled. He gritted his teeth and swallowed the tears. He was a man on a mission and he wouldn’t give Sharp’s the smug satisfaction of being proven right. Patrick was in control and he knew better.

The brief pause for lunch didn’t help at all. With Jon, PK and Brent still working and Etienne taking a nap he found himself having an awkward meal with Carey. It’s not like the man was rude, on the contrary-he was extremely polite but rather quiet. Patrick didn’t take it personally, he was used to being withdrawn himself at times. Going back to the fields was a mix between anticipation and fear. Working with Jon in such a close proximity once again would be both a blessing and a curse.

Patrick was there to win a bet, he had neither the time nor the will for even a brief entanglement and Jon came with responsibilities that Pat was not willing to get mixed up with. He did want to learn about farming though and Jonathan was the most qualified to teach him. An idea had been plaguing him since he made the calculations in his head about the patch they were working on. Objective, robust and accurate statistics could help farmers make informed decisions and run more profitable businesses.

Patrick knew he had a lot to learn about the field but if he took the core of his initial software he could develop a new one solely agriculturally based. He had started his business with general software but he had expanded since then to specific fields. As far as he knew there wasn’t anything out there about trends in grain and seed prices, something to supply chain information about the price difference of crops or the popularity and need amongst the many seeds.

The fact that Jonathan returned to the house to look after his nephew filled Pat with great disappointment but it gave him time to think over his plan. The downside of his mind wandering, besides the fact that he had to triple check his work, was that as he got ahead of himself, as he often did when thinking.

He started thinking of the dairy farmers and gate milk prices, the beef farmers and trends in livestock numbers, even a generalized plan of industry trends about how the structure and business performance can help governments come up with appropriate policy.  He’d obviously need to hire consultants and do extensive research so he can adapt the premise into algorithms and numbers but he was fairly certain that it was plausible.

That’s how he finds himself now, returning to the house with a faraway look in his eyes and barely aware of anything happening outside of his own head.

   “You made it out alive I see” Carey says clapping Pat in the shoulder gently. Patrick is startled having been lost in his thoughts and he frowns at the comment not sure if it’s teasing or mocking.

 “Don’t tease the newbie, Carey” PK chimes in “Don’t pay him any attention, man, his humour is drier than the Sahara desert” says to Pat and offers up a smile. Patrick had already decided that he likes the kid.

“Go grab me a pop, PK” Carey says and PK dashes off before the words leave his mouth “Didn’t mean anything by it” he offers Patrick.

“To be honest there were a couple times I doubted I’d make it myself” Pat replies honestly “especially when these fuckers started popping” he shows the pus oozing from his palms

Carey grabs his hand immediately “What the ever loving f- didn’t you use your gloves?”

Patrick is puzzled “Ehmm, no? I wasn’t given any”

“Oh for the love- Jon” Carey yells and soon enough Jon climbs down the stairs

“Can you keep it down? I’m trying to put Etienne to bed” he chastises

Carey’s face softens “How’s he doing?”

Jon’s face falls “He’s still angry with me”

“He’ll get over it, man. You couldn’t let him go to the hospital and see Duncan like that” Patrick doesn’t really follow the conversation, he’s too busy comparing both men and finding obvious similarities that go deeper than their physical appearance. The way they interact shows an ease that comes with time and shared experiences.

“At the moment, he just hates me” Jon replies and Pat can hear the pain in his voice.

Carey walks up to him and squeezes his shoulder “He doesn’t mean it”

“I know” Jon nods “So, what did you want?” with that any emotions he let slip are once again hidden and guarded.

“Newbie here fucked up his hands. Didn’t you give him gloves?” he says motioning towards Patrick.

Jonathan comes close and reaches for Pat’s hands while he defensively closes them into tight fists. The action hurts and Pat wills himself from wincing. He hates that Jon’s rough hands are capable of soft touches.

“Why didn’t you say anything you fool?” Jon accuses

“Why didn’t you give me any gloves?” Pat counter asks, this is not his fault and he refuses to be blamed.

Jonathan lowers his eyes but offers no apology “Come with me. We need to clean it and wrap it for tonight.”

Patrick follows him obediently. Neither one speaks as they make their way up stairs and into the bathroom. Jon retrieves a first aid kit and digs out a bottle of rubbing alcohol or hydrogen peroxide or whatever clear liquid is appropriate for these kinds of injuries, it’s not like Patrick had to deal with anything other than scraped knees.       

  “This will set you back at least a couple of days. I’ll need to find you something else to do in the meanwhile” Jon comments as he cleans Pat’s palm.

“It’s not my fault” he states and he’s ready to say more but Jon chooses that moment to blow over the palm to sooth the sting. Patrick can feel the goose bumps under his shirt and he’s glad he hasn’t folded his sleeves.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have thought about the gloves, it’s just- we barely use them anymore and I forgot. It won’t happen again” he applies a cream and proceeds to wrap it with gauze.

“I can help in the house” Patrick offers

“I’ll figure something out, don’t worry about it” Jon takes his other hand and repeats the process.

“So, what do you do for fun around here?” Pat asks to break the silence and make himself not focus on the way Jon’s fingers skim the pus off his palms making him shiver.

“Nothing you would find interesting for sure”

Patrick doesn’t like that remark; it sounds judgemental “What do you mean by that?”

“Just that we don’t have your kind of entertainment that’s all” Jon doesn’t look at him when he says it but Pat doesn’t have to see his eyes to know that whatever he thinks Pat does he clearly doesn’t approve.

“And how would you know what I like exactly?” God, why does this man make Pat lose his cool?

“I do know how to Google you know” this time he does look up, eyebrow raised as if challenging Pat to disagree.

“Oh” is what he says dumbly. He knows the kind of articles he must have found, he can admit he had some not so flattering...encounters and the shame about them hasn’t died out yet, unfortunately. He’s not going to justify himself to some stranger though, and since he can’t really tell his-for all intents and purposes- boss to shove his opinions where the sun don’t shine he opts to stay silent.

Jonathan runs his thumb over Pat’s scared wrist and Patrick can feel his throat close. “Is this why you stopped playing?”

Patrick retreats his hand from Jon’s grip in a flash “How did you know I played?” he asks harsher than he intended to, taken aback by the sudden subject change. It’s not like it’s a favourite topic to discuss.

Jon says nothing “Oh, right, you can Google, I forgot” he adds. Jonny still doesn’t reply, he just takes Pat’s hand again and fastens the gauze. Patrick thinks he feels a squeeze but he’s sure he imagined it.

“You’re done. Be careful not to wet it” whatever Pat thought he felt it either didn’t happen or was fleeting because now Jon is distant again.

“Thanks” he mumbles and makes his way out of the bathroom and downstairs.

Carey and PK are no longer in the house so he grabs a sandwich from the table and retreats in his room.

He eats quicker than it’s probably healthy to and changes to his sleep clothes. He doesn’t have enough strength to shower and he’s not sure he wants to face Jonathan again for the day.

As he curls up in his bed for some much needed rest he can’t help but wonder for a second time today just what in the hell Sharp has gotten him into.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Patrick is used to waking up early in a silent house; he’s generally a morning person unless you can count the nights he spends on his computer working.  He usually feels off for the rest of the day when that happens but he can’t stop when inspiration strikes. He uses artistic references more often than not because for him what he does is a form of art; unfortunately not all that many admire or understand but in his circle he’s considered a revolutionist.

This morning it’s different though; He’s in a contrasting mix of well rested while his whole body hurts. He shouldn’t have skipped that shower because now all his muscles are locked. He can hear raining heavily outside but the house is warm and it’s a small blessing because Sharp’s choice of clothes for him is a misfortune.

He stumbles his way to the bathroom and tries to wash his face with only his fingers because his bandages are still on. It’s a rather tricky situation but he does it with minimal damage and only winces twice when he brushes his teeth and holds his toothbrush a bit tighter than is allowed.

He ambles to the kitchen and traces the walls with his fingers to find the switch. It takes him three tries and two bumps into the lower cupboards but he succeeds in the end. The coffee maker starts dripping slowly and Pat figures it is set on a timer. He guesses he can wait a while. His stomach on the other hand is not so patient. Having skipped last night’s dinner and eating just a sandwich was probably the dumbest move he’d done in a while.

He feels awkward going through someone else’s fridge for about five seconds but guesses since all the workers eat there and he already messed up twice it’d be nice to make everyone breakfast. He’s neither Gordon Ramsey nor Jaime Oliver but he can master eggs, bacon and some toast. He’s not sure what the beverage of choice is, apart from the coffee that’s half way done, and his hands are no way ready to squeeze any oranges so he concentrates on the food instead.

Nothing is lacking in Jonathan’s kitchen but Patrick has a feeling that if things didn’t have a specific spot in the very well-thought drawers there would have been chaos in there. He doesn’t know why he thinks that, it’s not like it’s a mess but it’s far from what his own kitchen looks like. Patrick likes order, sue him.

Everything seems to go as planned and Patrick can’t help feeling a little smug, but the universe must have it out for him because he can’t think of another explanation for what happens next. All he does is grab the pan handle to take the eggs out so he can put the scrabbled mix after but his palm vigorously protests and his fist involuntarily opens. The pan tips, eggs and oil all over the hot stove, smoke filling the room in 0.4 seconds flat. Surely that must be some kind of record.

He’s too busy panicking and searching for a cloth to even hear any sound over the beeping fire alarm.

“What the fuck is going on?” he hears an angry shout from behind.

Patrick wishes there was a way the earth could open and swallow him. He’s more embarrassed than scared; he figures that after this, being fired is not a possibility it’s a certainty and he’d be gutted for losing the bet if he wasn’t busy trying to figure a way to hide how mortified he is.

“I was trying to make breakfast and the-“ Patrick loses his capability to speak when he turns around and is faced with Jonathan- hair tousled, sleep in his eyes, dressed with nothing but tight black boxer briefs Jonathan. Pat is ready to throw his hands in the air and cry uncle because no one, no one should be allowed to look this good when stumbling out of bed especially with eyes that scream murder. His life is so unfair.

“And what? You didn’t find any food and decided to serve us my kitchen flambé?” Patrick needs to ask him his secret for managing to sound dry and scathing while looking half asleep and standing half naked and barefoot.

Patrick extends his palm, gauze now filled with pus spots with a hint of pink “I tried to grip the pan and it tipped over”

Jonathan sighs and shakes his head, reaching to do something that makes the beeping stop “I’m sorry. I just wanted- Everyone was asleep and I thought I’d start breakfast before-”he doesn’t know what to say really. He feels six again, like the time he tried to heat his milk by placing his plastic cup on the stove eye. He should have known better now. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll clean everything up before I go, I swear.”

There’s a flash of something in Jon’s eyes but it passes too quickly for Pat to be able to identify it “You’re going somewhere?”

“I- I thought that after this” he gestures his hands around the mess “and everything yesterday that-“

“That I’d kick you out? We’re not turning people away for messing up, Patrick. If anything it’s kind of my fault” Jon sounds apologetic and affronted at the same time. For someone whose voice betrays nothing he’s actually capable of projecting a lot. Or at least Patrick think he does, he’s not very sure; he might be reading too much into it because no one can be capable of radiating those rare mixes and nothing at all at once.

At least Patrick can identify his own confusion; he’s the train wreck and Jon takes the blame? “I don’t see how”

“I pushed too hard too soon. I’m used to temp workers who know how to handle the job. I forgot about the gloves and that messed up your hands. I also forgot to warn you that today they’d be tenderer and that you should be careful how to grab things. As for the rest...that was all _your_ doing.  I’ll take no credit for that.”

“Do you do that a lot?” Patrick can’t help but ask.

“Do what?”

“Find ways to ease the blame off of everyone else” he doesn’t know why he says it, but something tells him that it’s a common occurrence.

“I run this farm, Patrick. Everything is my responsibility and if something goes wrong it’s because I hadn’t handled it well enough. Too many people depend on me and it takes much effort to not let them down”

Patrick doesn’t have anything to say to that, at least not something that Jon would be willing to listen. They’re all grown men from what he’s seen, capable of accepting whatever blame falls on them. It speaks volumes about the kind of boss and person Jonathan is. His familiar self preservation instincts want to scream at him to lighten up and let someone help him carry that weigh he settles on his shoulder. The other half can’t help but admire the man.

“I need to go wake Etienne up and get him ready for school. It’s a good thing he’s a heavy sleeper on his good nights. Do you know where the coop is?”

Patrick nods “Good. There’s a basket right by the door. I know you’ve probably never done it before but you just go in and collect the eggs. They have spots where they usually lay them. One is by the window and the second next to the sacks. Be careful as you enter because Louise for some reason favours the spot lately”

Patrick raises both his brows “Louise?”

Jonathan’s ears pink a little “There was a chicken in a book...whatever. Just look where you step and grab a jacket. It’s pouring out there. Do you think you can do it?”

“How hard can it be?” Patrick shrugs.

Famous last words.

 

 

 

Jonathan wishes that he had let him go when he tried to quit. He could have kept Sharp’s money and used a portion to hire a more suitable worker, one who would be an asset to the farm and a lesser threat to Jon’s sanity. Not that it would have been easy finding one at this time, since most farm workers were already employed and very few would agree to a month’s employment with minimum wage and no benefits but at least they wouldn’t have been a beguiling disaster that stroke every protective instinct of Jon’s being.

He begrudges himself for that; for his inability to stop being haunted by troubled eyes. He can still see his brother’s pleading look just before the end, Veronic’s terror as she gazed her son for what she knew would be the last time, Etienne’s tear filled eyes in the sight of Duncan’s blood, Andrew’s horror, shame and guilt just before he packed his bag... More importantly his own two eyes every time he looks in the mirror. He should have let Patrick quit but that wouldn’t be fair. Jonathan may be demanding but he’s not unjust.

He steps into Etienne’s room and watches him sleep peacefully. He’s reluctant to wake him since it was one of the few nights since Duncan’s accident that he didn’t wake up screaming and crying but he already missed a week of school and Jon does not have the option of keeping him home. Etienne needs constant supervision and with Brandon gone there’s no one he can leave to watch him. It’s not like Carey or PK would refuse if he asked, since it’s a rainy day and there’s not much they can do in the fields but Jon doesn’t want to abuse their kindness. That’s not why he’s paying them and they’ve already shoulder more work than it was expected of them.

For a brief second he considers letting him sleep and have Patrick watch him. Etienne seemed to trust him enough to open up to him and Jon can admit now that he’s alone that it still hurts but Patrick is not here to stay and the last thing Etienne needs is to bond with someone who’d be only temporary in their lives.

He sits on Etienne’s bed and cards his fingers through his hair “Hey, buddy, time to wake up” he says softly “You need to get ready for school”

“No want to” comes the grumbled reply and Jon smiles gently at how many of his mannerisms the boy had copied over the years.

“Come on, kiddo, it’s crafts Tuesday. You get to play with clay and maybe you can make me another bunny so Ace Jr won’t be alone”

“It’s Ace the Sec’d, Papa” Etienne huffs exasperatedly and only half awake. Jon still remembers the wailing and screaming when he foolishly tried to explain to a toddler that Ace Two is not a correct term to use on a name. They have reached an agreement when Etienne rolled Ace the Second off his tongue a dozen times and deemed it acceptable. Junior was out of the question even before Jon could manage to finish the suggestion.

“You’re right, I forgot. Sorry. Now hop down and let’s wash our face and brush our teeth so we can have breakfast, yes?”

Etienne opens his eyes and looks at Jon biting his bottom lip. Jonathan knows what he wants; when he was a little younger he’d look at him and extend his arms and Jon would give in and carry him every time. He’s ‘ _a big boy now_ ’ as he never fails to inform Jon but Jonathan always tells him that even big boys need a hug from time to time. Their middle ground is that though Etienne does not extend his arms any longer he silently asks saving face and Jon never comments on it. It works for both of them.

He scoops the boy up and Etienne locks his arms tightly around his neck, his legs around Jon’s hips and make their way to the bathroom. Jon drags the step stool from under the sink and lowers Etienne on it. He turns the faucet and lets Etienne wash his face while he uncaps the toothpaste and applies it on the brush “Just to save time” he says to the boy who peeks at him over his palms as angrily as he can while still half asleep.

Jon lets him brush his teeth alone and counts his blessings that he’s so pliant at night that he allows Jonathan to do it for him or he’s not sure he could afford the dentist bill. He carries Etienne back to the room with a practiced ease as the boy refuses to let go of the towel, scrubbing at his face until he once again is set on his bed.

It’s their morning routine along with Jon opening and closing drawers as Etienne picks and points the acceptable items to wear for school “No forget my smock” Etienne mumbles. Usually, Jon carefully corrects his grammar in a way that won’t make him feel bad but more often than not he lets him get away with it because he finds it adorable.

 “I won’t. It’s already in your bag but we can double check, yeah?”

Etienne stretches his hand and pats Jon’s palm gently “I trust you” he says seriously and Jon prays to anyone who might hear to let him be a good enough parent, a good enough person not to betray that faith.

He nods smiling not trusting himself to speak “Off we go” he says carrying the bag and follows Etienne down the stairs. Half way there the door bursts open and a wild Patrick appears. There’s not another word to describe it; his hood is half torn, hair tousled, face and clothes covered in mud and “Is that yolk?” he finds himself asking out loud.

“Those...those vile _creatures_ attacked me!” Patrick whines. “That god awful bird bit my hand! Then the whole lot of those fuckers started pecking me! I fell in the mud while running for my life! I’m soaking wet and yes I have yolk on my face but here...” he says extending the basket “take your precious eggs. Bon appetite, asshole”

“Patrick! Christ! there’s a child present” he says pointing at Etienne who tries to hide his giggles behind his sleeve.

Patrick is ready to swear again, Jon is sure of it but halts and looks at Etienne “I’m sorry” he says to the boy instead of Jon but he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

They rush down the stairs and Jon walks over and takes the basket. “Take off your shoes and go up stairs. Have a shower and change or you’ll catch your death.”

Patrick glares daggers at him and if looks could kill Jon is sure he’d be a dead man ten seconds ago. He does take his shoes off though and rushes to his room muttering under his breath. Jon doesn’t have to hear to know that he’s being showered with some not so fond adjectives. His treacherous heart tells him to wrap his arms around Patrick, gross and all, and comfort him; his evil side wants to break down and laugh and his brain screams that maybe this will do it and Pat will finally quit, giving Jon the chance to keep Sharp’s money. He’s not sure which part of him wants to win.

 

 

 

Jon is positively seething. He’s in a right state and walking into his house soaked and dirty watching a freshly clean Patrick sitting at the table eating breakfast puts the final nail in the coffin.

“You absolute, fu*-friggin’ –“he bowls his fists trying not to swear in front of Etienne “You let the chicken’s out you, you f*” he growls, he can’t help the sound that comes from deep inside him “Are you actively trying to destroy my life? You dig my field like it’s a treasure hunt and I spend my whole lunch time trying to cover up the holes, you almost burn down my kitchen and I have to scrub eggs and oil off my stove and counters, you let the chickens out of the coop and I have to chase them around in the yard causing Eti to lose his bus and you sit there all clean and happy sipping your coffee like you have no care in the world, you un-“

Jon’s rant is interrupted by the door and he can feel his anger bubble more deep inside, he feels hot, his face is probably red, his throat hurts and he has the urge to smash his fist into the nearest wall while Patrick raises his sweater hood a little more over his damp hair like that’s going to shield him from Jon’s rage.

“What’s going on here?” Brent asks worryingly

“Le petite chaperon rouge et le grand méchant loup” Etienne’s giggles make everyone pause and stare.

“Emmm...Eti buddy, you know I don’t speak French, right?” Brent’s exchanges with Etienne give Jon time to breathe deep and try to control himself; the thought of translating what the boy has just said makes his ears flame with embarrassment.

  “I forget, Uncle Brent, sorry” Etienne says and touches Pat’s hood “little red and wolf” he says as he points at Jon “Papa’s gonna eat him” he adds and resolves into another fit of giggles.

Pat hides deeper in his hood and Jon absolutely does not find it cute. He doesn’t. “Care to explain to me what happened?” Brent asks puzzled.

“There was an incident in the coop” Jon hears Pat say and his voice is small. They way he shrinks himself in the chair makes Jon’s heart ache. Even justifiably angry he can’t help but feel like a horrible human being and an even worse role model for Etienne.

He misses the explanation Patrick gives but catches Brent’s next question “Did you try to take Louise’s eggs?”

 Jon can see that Pat is confused “The brown one by the door” he supplies snappily.

Pat is looking at him unsure of what to say. Jon sees the fright in his eyes and wonders what kind of terrors go through his mind. He’s not that scary, Jesus!

“Yeah” he answers finally

“Man, Louise is a hen and you were trying to take away her babies, no wonder she attacked you” Brent is amused, Pat and Etienne both have similar horrified wide eyes and Jon wonders how is this his life.

 “I warned you about Louise, didn’t I?” Jon accuses

“You told me to be careful; you didn’t tell me not to touch them. She just started biting my hand and next thing I know they were all gathered around me pecking wherever they could reach. I lost my footing and fell face first in the mud and then a couple of eggs broke and I didn’t think to close the door; I just left” he sounds so resigned, so defeated that Jon can’t help but feel sorry for him.

“You’re right” he concedes “I’m sorry and I apologize about my outburst as well” he adds because there’s a lesson there for everyone. Pat needs to ask for specifics, Jon needs to realise that no one is as well versed in farming as he is and Etienne needs to know that you should always apologize for your mistakes.

There’s a sudden yelp from Pat and Jon is startled, it’s not like he hasn’t apologized before it shouldn’t be that shocking “Oh my God, I killed her babies” Pat cries out and hides his face in his palms.

Brent burst into laughter and Etienne’s eyes well with unshed tears. Jon is a horrible father and this is clearly a toxic environment for his son.

“Dude, she’s been there two, three days tops. They were no babies in those eggs, relax!” Brent provides and both Pat and Etienne look expectantly at Jonathan.

Jon nods “Brent’s right. Look, no harm was done and now you know better. Carey helped me get them back in and I’ll just go upstairs to change and drive Eti to school myself. I have some errands to run in town anyway. It’s still pouring out so we won’t be able to work on the fields today.”

Etienne perks up at that “Can we go to Timmy’s?”

“Didn’t you just finish breakfast bud?” Brent asks as he ruffles the boy’s hair.

Etienne shrugs “I’ll go change while you boys clean up the table. If we have time I’ll get you a donut to eat at school, alright?” Jon thinks it’s time to restore order in this chaos. He doesn’t wait for an answer and heads towards the stairs.

“I’ll head up to the greenhouse when I’m done. Is anyone coming?” Brent asks.

“Carey’s taking care of the animals so I’ll send PK over. I’ll come help as soon as I’m back”

  “What should I do?” Patrick asks reluctantly. ‘ _You should just quit’_ is the first thing that comes to Jon’s mind to say but instead he settles for “You’re coming with us”

 

 

 

Jon is trying to focus on the road but the giggles from the back seat and the fact that Pat is playing a hand clapping game with Etienne makes it hard for him to concentrate.

He doesn’t know when Patrick Kane became Pat in his mind or how despite his better judgement he can’t stop stealing glances but it’s too fast too soon and he’s terrified. He knows on a very conscious level what kind of type Pat is; he’s been with a few of them to recognise it instantly, the playboy-partying type that doesn’t last more than a few nights if you’re lucky, that will most likely leave you with unfilled expectations and if you care enough a broken heart. Jon knows the type- he always falls for it.

This though, bonding with his kid, making him smile more in a few hours than he had the whole past week is something Jon isn’t equipped to handle since it hadn’t happened before.

“Chercher, papa, une étoile” Etienne points towards the sky “a star, Pat!” he translates “but is not night” he adds sounding confused.

Jon doesn’t have an explanation for him but before he even opens his mouth to reply -because he does not lie to Etienne, ever- Pat beats him to it.

“Oh, dude that’s Hute” he says like he just introduced an old friend

“What is a Hute?” Etienne asks

“Hute is his name- the star” he points at the same direction

Etienne looks sceptical “No is not” he decides.

“Is too” Patrick insists petulantly

“How you know?” Jon can’t help but feel smug that his boy is smart enough to question sketchy declarations.

“Hute and I are old buds. You really don’t know his story?” Etienne shakes his head and Jon can admit that he’s curious to see where this is going.

“Ok, let me tell you Hute’s story. See, Hute is a star but he’s not like all the others. He’s special. He likes to wander around in the sky and he often dreams- the kind of dreams you have with your eyes open. He forgets his schedule sometimes and that gets him into trouble. That’s how I met him” needless to say Patrick has the boy’s undivided attention.

“When I- when I injured my wrist” he says and Jon can see on the mirror that Pat runs his fingers through his scar “I used to sit in my room a lot. My sisters wanted to play but I couldn’t do much with a cast so I used to sit by the window and look at the sky. I don’t know a lot about stars and they all looked the same to me but one night a little star talked to me”

“What it say?” Etienne’s eyes are huge and full of expectations.

“It asked me why I was up so late and I thought I was imagining it but then I saw the little star twitch and I heard a giggle. Anyway, after he introduced himself and convinced me I wasn’t dreaming he stayed with me to keep me company and we talked and talked until it was morning. When the sun came up I asked Hute why he didn’t leave with all the others and he said that he stays every day a little longer to play with the sun. He stayed up past his bed time one night-that’s what he said- and he met the sun. Hute saw that while he had all of the other stars to play with at night, the sun was all alone so he decided to stay a little longer to keep him company. That’s why he’s still in the sky.”

“You still friends?” Etienne asks after a beat.

“Of course we are. He visits me when I’m feeling lonely”

“You think- he be my friend too?” Etienne whispers shyly.

“Of course!” Patrick nod vehemently “If you ever feel lonely, Hute will know and he’ll come to you”

 Etienne gives Patrick his most radiant smile and Jon is now more sure than ever that if Patrick doesn’t leave soon there’s no way his heart will come out of this intact.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Dirt, shit and stink. I hate this!” Patrick is going out of his mind. Jon seems to be punishing him since he’s been on barn duty for three consecutive days. He has to clean not only the area but the animals as well; he honest to God had to clean a pig! A dirty, stinky, slippery ball of meat he’d rather see in his plate as bacon than beautify it! He didn’t even know people did this. He’s not even going to touch the cow subject because it still hurts. At least he has become friendlier with the chickens. He thinks he has spent more time talking to Louise as he watches if her eggs have hatched than any other living soul.

Jon seems to actively avoid him and he doesn’t understand why. He reassigned PK and when Pat works in the fields he has to join Carey and obviously someone forgot to mention to him that it is polite to hold some sort of conversation once in a while. At least he doesn’t yell at him if he messes up.

Unfortunately, that’s all Patrick appears to be doing. He might be the worst worker in the whole planet. If he were to recap all of his mistakes and their resulting problems, he’d probably have to spend the rest of his working days recounting them all.

This job is a blow to his ego and he’s probably lost the last shred of dignity he possessed. Quitting isn’t an option but even if it was he’s not sure he’d have taken that road. He’s never given up on anything; he’s a fighter even if at the end of the road there’s only loss. He wishes he could just write Jon a check so he could hire himself a few decent workers and spare both of them any additional misery.

Patrick is furious with the Sharps as well. Not once in his adventures did he force anyone to undergo such humiliation and harsh labour. He sent them to tropical paradises with soft beds and wine not roads to hell they themselves had to dig. He doesn’t know what lesson he’s supposed to be learning. However, what he has grasped is that he needs new friends, because his old ones are ungrateful, vindictive assholes.

His fury is what motivates him; the worse the blows the more determined he is to prove everyone wrong once again. Patrick will leave this farm in triumph and when he does he’d shout his glory no matter how undignified gloating is. The whole ordeal though makes him appreciate the people who work on farms more. He can’t help but admire Jon in particular; being responsible for the farm as well as his workers, understaffed and with a three (and a half) year old at home yet somehow managing to find a balance and not fall apart. Patrick doesn’t know how he makes due. He could live here all his life and still never be half as good as Jon is. It takes a great inner strength for one person to be able to carry all this heavy weight.

That’s what he finds himself thinking when he’s ready to throw in the towel, that Jon trusted him to see this through and it’ll be the last thing he does even if it kills him. There are a few rare moments where he thinks ‘ _anything he can do I can do better_ ’ but that’s a blatant lie and Pat had made a promise to always be honest with himself.

Wilbur the pig backtracks and it makes Pat turn his head to find the reason why. Jon is heading his way; he’s wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a red t-shirt with his sleeves rolled up showing off his arms, neckline stretched three inches lower than it should be and even though there are obvious signs of exhaustion he still may be the best thing Patrick had laid eyes on. It’s so unfair in more ways than one.

He enters the barn and greets Patrick with a smile “Good morning, Patrick” however small it is it makes something inside Patrick ease.

“Good morning” he feels a flicker of anger rise inside him, the kind that derives from hurt, which shocks him. It’s unjustifiable and it leaves him confused.

“How are you today?” Jon asks warmly.

‘ _Dead on my feet and hating my life, you slave trader_ ’ is on the tip of his tongue along with a scotched ‘ _like you even care_ ’ but he says neither. He shrugs his shoulders “Fine”

“You didn’t have breakfast” Jonathan states.

He still feels like an outsider and although a few days ago he could have sworn he is a people’s person he doesn’t feel quite welcomed. “I was not hungry” he lies; his stomach is doing somersaults.

Jon extends his hands and offers him a wrapped package “In case you get hungry”

Patrick takes it and unwraps it refusing to think just how sweet and caring the gesture is in itself. If Jon thinks he can get back into his good graces by bribing him with food he’s in for a shock. The sandwich looks delicious he must admit, lettuce and tomato and a sauce that makes his mouth water. He runs his tongue over his lips trying not to drool in the present of company. “Thanks” he manages.

Jon nods “Are you ready for work?”

“I have been working since six thirty this morning” he offers snappily.

“I meant in the fields”

Patrick finds himself not wanting to leave the shelter of the barn. Solitude seems to suit him best and Wilbur has taken a liking to him. “Yeah, sure. Just give me a couple of minutes to wrap things up here”

Wilbur keeps coming closer to him sniffing the air. He stands next to Patrick and shoves his snout on the hand that Pat holds the sandwich. Patrick huffs and unwraps it, cuts a piece and feeds it to him. Next thing he knows, Wilbur pushes harder at his palm, presumably wanting more, resulting at Pat losing his footing and feeling himself falling backwards.

 Two strong arms at his waist steady him, the body at his back radiating heat. It towers over him and for a fleeting moment Patrick wants to let himself go and lose himself in the embrace. “Easy there” Jon says quietly, breath tingling Pat’s ear sending shivers down his spine.

Patrick extracts himself from the hold and Jon makes no effort to keep him close. That’s not disappointment that Patrick feels- it’s not. He steadies himself and turns to find Jonathan not having moved an inch. There’s barely any space between them and Pat’s heartbeat is ringing in his ears. Jon is pinning him with his eyes, gaze piercing and acute.  ‘ _Move_ ’ a little voice in his head whispers but Jon isn’t moving so Pat holds his ground as well.

‘ _Don’t’_ the voice warns but Pat is on his tiptoes before it even finishes. He cranes his neck and closes the gap slowly, challengingly, giving Jon a chance to back off. He doesn’t take it. Pat shuts his eyes and skims his lips on Jon’s softly asking for both permission and entrance at the same time. Jonathan’s lips half open and his hand finds the back of Pat’s neck. Patrick seizes the opportunity and delves into Jon’s mouth caressing Jonathan’s tongue with his own.

It’s slow and languish, cautious and conscientious; a little timid as well. Jon tastes like rich, earthy soil and rain; he smells the same as well. Patrick’s heart aches; he’s never kissed anyone like this before. The way Jon cradles his head with care, the way he gives him room without actually surrendering, the way he is wrapped around him like a cocoon made to shield him makes Patrick’s eyes well with unshed tears. He fits there- Patrick had never fitted anywhere. Of all the mistakes he had made this is going to cost him the most.

He doesn’t know where he finds the strength to pull away but he does, regretting it as soon as he feels the air between them. Jon’s face is relaxed, his eyes soft, for a second only. Patrick sees the wall the moment it goes up.

“I’m sorry” he offers

Jon stiffens “You’re apologizing?”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you” for more than one reason, he thinks.

“I didn’t stop you”

“No, you didn’t but that still doesn’t make it right” it seemed right; it felt right to Patrick that’s why it was the worst mistake of all.

Everything changes in Jon’s posture, his eyes darken-not with lust, not with anger either; Patrick can’t identify the emotion “I work for you...I’ll leave soon” he adds and that makes Jon tighten his lips though he nods-his agreement or his understanding, Patrick can’t really tell. “I’m really sor-“

Pat’s added apology is being cut off by Jon’s lips smashing against his. It’s nothing like their first kiss; if he didn’t know better he’d think Jon was staking a claim; he surrenders himself nonetheless.

Jon kisses him until they’re both out of breath; he takes a step backwards and pats Patrick on the shoulder “There!” he says “You can stop apologizing now. We’re even”

Patrick skims his fingers over his lips watching Jonathan leave.

What did just happen?

 

 

Patrick’s not hiding per-se; he’s just stalling a little. With Etienne at his grandparents and PK in the farmers market all morning there was not anyone there to ease the tension so skipping lunch had been his only option. He’s tired and hungry and his guilt is weighing him down. He crossed a line without thinking the consequences. Patrick is temporary; he’d be a fleeting memory at best in a couple of weeks. Most importantly, he’s a fake. Half-truths and white lies were harmless when all he had to do was survive four weeks and win a bet; they are despicable when it comes to getting intimate with someone. Not that that’s what Pat wants. He has a life, a company to run, family and friends who wait for him at home and all that is miles away from here.

Romance is not on the list of Pat’s goals and even if Jon was agreeable to an ephemeral affair he’s not sure he himself could walk out unaffected. Wilbur agrees with him he thinks, he’d have to run it by Louise as well in the morning. The fact that he hides in either the barn or the coop conversing with animals shows just how screwed up he is.

He returns to the house later than usual that evening, hoping that everyone would have cleared out already. Unfortunately, that’s not the case since he finds them all gathered in the living room. Jon is in the middle talking about things they can change to improve their work and for a second Pat gets a flashback of locker rooms and play strategies. He stops when he sees Pat and everyone turns towards him.

“Anyway, thank you all for your hard work” Jon shifts the attention back to him. He hands out an envelope to each of them and pats PK in the back “Spend them wisely” he says.

PK laughs “Spoil sport”

Carey drags him away “Come on, let’s go get ready” he stops in front of Patrick “Clean up newbie and be ready by ten”

Patrick frowns “What?”

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Carey asks

“Where?”

Carey turns to Jon but he avoids his gaze “To the bar. Country night?”

“Hm..I-“

“No one told you?” Carey asks again now glaring around the room

“Well, no- but that’s OK. I can stay-“it doesn’t surprise him that he wasn’t invited, it does though that Carey of all people was expecting him to join.

 “Nonsense! Of course you’re coming” he says in a tone that leaves no room for arguments.

Pat shrugs “I guess”

Carey claps him in the back “Great. We’ll meet you guys outside at ten” he rushes PK out of there while Jon is still talking with Brent.

“May I use the shower?” he asks hesitantly. Jonathan usually takes the first shift but Pat needs to get it over with so he can hide in his room until it’s time for them to leave.

“Jesus, Jonny, I know you can be kind of bossy but to have him ask permission-“Brent says incredulously

“No!” Jon is horrified “I didn’t! I-“he pauses and sees the corners of Brent’s mouth twitch upwards “Oh, fuck you, you asshole”

“Sorry Jonny boy, you’re not my type”

“You wish you were that lucky!” it’s a comfortable banter, almost like a habit and Pat finds himself liking this more relaxed Jonathan.

“As if, loser! I’m out of here. I’ll stop by the hospital so I’ll meet you guys there, OK?”

Jon nods “Tell Duncs I’ll come by tomorrow”

Patrick turns towards his room as Brent closes the door behind him “Here” Jon says at his back making him turn

He has a hand stretched, holding an envelope “What’s this?”

“Weekly payment” Jon offers

Pat takes it and opens it. He doesn’t know what to expect since he’s never been an employee before but what’s in that envelope must be some kind of mistake

“I’ve already deducted room and board expenses” Jon adds

Patrick looks at him then back at the money in the envelope “It’s the best I can offer” Jon continues, tone gruff “I thought Sharp would have mentioned-“

Pat senses his discomfort “No-yeah, it’s fine, man” it feels like he’s just been handed some pocket money

“I’ll take the first shift, you can shower next” is all Jon says

Patrick doesn’t argue, he’s still perplexed over how someone could get by a whole week with what Pat spends on a quiet Friday night.

 

 

 

Patrick thinks he might have accidentally ended up in Texas; too many plaid shirts, cowboy boots and hats. He won’t even mention some of the belt buckles. PK wears a horrifying one, Brent admittedly looks good in a light blue plaid shirt and Carey could easily be in the cover of a paperback romance novel.

Jon wears his blue-grey plaid shirt hanging a little loose, half-buttoned at the top and his tight faded blue jeans show off the muscles on his thighs the way he sits on the bar stool. Not that Patrick is looking or anything. Patrick himself wears a grey long sleeved Henley and for the first time in a long while he feels self conscious.

Carey nudges him “Relax, newbie. We’re supposed to be having fun” he smiles a little and his face softens. Patrick decides it’s a good look on him.

“I’m fine” he says as he nurses his beer, he figures he can afford only a couple so he has to make them last.

“For the party type you’re awfully quiet” Carey comments.

“Common misconception” he says “Things are not always what they seem. You for instance, much chattier today”

Carey laughs “True. So, how you like it here so far?”

Patrick shrugs “Could have been better, could have been a lot worse”

Carey nods “It’s hard the first time around, you’ll get used to it”

“Three more weeks tops and I’m out man. I don’t think that’s enough time”

“You’ll be leaving, then?” Carey asks seriously, any hint of a smile gone.

“I’m just here till your boy gets back, that’s the deal” it’s not a lie but for some reason the words leave a trace of bitterness on his tongue.

Carey’s eyes narrow “If that’s the case, don’t make them think you’re staying” his gaze follows something behind Pat’s back.

“What the hell are you-“

“Hey, Pricey, come dance with me” PK comes out of nowhere, interrupting them. Carey’s eyes soften for a moment then his face closes off again. PK tags at his sleeve “Come on!”

“Fine!” Carey consents, not that he put up that much of a fight. If Patrick wasn’t still puzzled by what Carey meant he’d try to figure out what the deal with those two is. Maybe he can perform some of his famous matchmaking magic.

His eyes wander around the place but nothing seems to catch his interest. Jon and Brent are sitting few feet away but Pat hesitates to join them. They’re with a group of guys, all tall, light-haired and built. One of them is having a serious expression on his face as he talks to Brent, the other one has mischief written all over his face as he looks around and the third one is sitting too close to Jon than necessary; the bar is not that crowded.

Unfortunately for Pat, Brent catches his eye and motions him to join them. He can’t even pretend he hasn’t notice him. He reluctantly makes his way there.

“Hey, Patrick, come join us” Brent waves him closer “Guys, this is Patrick”

“Oh, is this your new worker?” the naughtiness oozes from his every pore as he rakes his eyes over Pat’s body. He shrugs “Not bad!”

Brent laughs and the guy next to Brent slaps him upright the head “Shut it or I’ll muzzle you. I swear, we can’t take him anywhere” he extends his hand to Patrick “I’m Marc and this idiot is my brother Jordan.”

Patrick shakes their hands “and that’s Eric” Brent adds pointing to the guy next to Jon.

“Eric Staal” the guy says cautiously but offers his hand nonetheless.

“Nice to meet you”

Eric eyes him closely “How’s the farm work treating you?”

“Eh, we’re still in the courting stage. Might hate me, might just be playing it hard to get” he says and smiles. He hopes it looks more genuine than he feels.

“The land is a hard mistress but gives great rewards if you treat her right” Eric is apparently a farmer as well.

“If you say so” he shrugs and takes a sip at his beer.

Jon is quiet the whole time, fumbles with his beer bottle actively not looking at him. “Enough with the talking” Jordan says putting his bottle down “Come on Patrick, let’s dance”

Jon looks up at that and Patrick holds his gaze for a moment, waiting for... something, he doesn’t know what. Jon offers nothing, eyes as silent as him.

“Sure, why not?” Patrick deserves some fun.

 

 

“You lost three of your guys in a week man, that must be tough” Marc comments “You were lucky to even find a worker this late”

Patrick doesn’t think Jon feels lucky but he stays unseen to listen to the reply; it matters to him for some reason “Sharp happened to have a shoot in the farm, his friend needed a job and I was desperate. I don’t know if it’ll work out”

“You know we could have helped you” Eric chimes in “You didn’t have to settle”

“You have too much on your plate already. We’re getting by so far”

“He’s not exactly farm material, man” Eric insists.

“Well no, but he tries” Patrick doesn’t know if Jon means it or he’s just arguing with Eric.

“He costs you time you can’t afford”

“He helps the best he can and that’s better than I had before”

“He’s setting you back cleaning up his messes. The weather won’t hold much and you’re already in a tight schedule. You may have paid off the loans but you still have the equipment payments”

“Eric” Marc warns, face hard

Patrick can sense Jon’s discomfort; he has come to read his body language well he thinks “I don’t have to pay Andrew and Brandon this month so I can afford two more payments. You make it sound like I’m going bankrupt” there’s a trace of anger in his tone, Pat notes.

“What about Etienne? You can’t have some random guy-“

“Butt the fuck out Eric, it’s none of our business” Marc scolds.

“Jon is our friend, he-“

“Hey, calm down guys, it’s OK. I appreciate the concern but Pat’s going to do fine.” Patrick doesn’t know if it’s conviction or wishful thinking but if he had to take a guess he’d say the latter; he’s too busy processing it all he almost missed what Jon had called him. People have used the shortened version of his name his whole life but it had never sounded quite like that.

Suddenly, there’s a presence at his side and a hand on his back “There you are man!” Jordan yells and everyone turns around “Wondered where you went. Come for another spin”

Jon and Eric’s cheeks flash a deep red, Marc and Brent exchange awkward glances; Patrick sends a glare Eric’s way and tries for a half smile but Jonathan averts his eyes.

Patrick’s shoulders slump and he turns away so no one can see his face fall.

 

 

He doesn’t know why he does it, why he plasters himself all over Jordan, back against chest, why he moves his hips slowly and with intent. He hadn’t encouraged him in the slightest and Jordan, apart from some teasing remarks, didn’t even seem interested in him that way. He knows it’s stupid, it’s childish really but seeing Jon dance with Eric rubs him off the wrong way.

Jon looks relaxed and smiley and Eric has dimples deeper than Pat’s when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corners and Patrick- Patrick just doesn’t like a guy who judges him without even knowing him that’s all. It’s not like he does it to catch Jon’s attention, he doesn’t care that Eric has his face practically shoved in Jon’s neck. It gives him a great satisfaction that Jon pulls himself off slightly though. Good, Jon deserves someone better than a scathing douche.

Patrick gets lost in the dance that’s why it startles him when Jordan speaks “Dude, maybe we should chill it. You’re nice and all but I don’t have a death wish”

Patrick tilts his head backwards “What are you talking about?”

  Jordan motions with his eyes somewhere across the room. Jon is dancing with someone else now, a blond girl roughly shorter than Pat, wavy hair falling in her face as she gyrates around Jon’s nether areas. Jon’s eyes are tiny slits focused their way even as his hand tightens around the girl’s waistline. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about man” he shrugs it off; it’s a trick of the light at best.

“Uh-huh” is all Jordan says. Pat burrows closer and Jordan chuckles in his ear. He tightens his arms nonetheless.

Jonathan and Patrick keep staring each other across the room. At some point their rhythms sync like they’re actually dancing together. With every backwards cant of Pat’s hips, Jon’s move forward, when Pat’s arm finds its way to Jordan’s neck Jon’s arm tightens around the girl’s waist. No one lowers their eyes. It seems like a challenge; blink and you lose.

Patrick doesn’t blink but he doesn’t feel like he’s winning either.

 

 

The ride back home is a bit more than awkward. PK keeps stealing glances at Carey who’s driving and slumps a little further down the seat when their eyes don’t meet over the mirror. Jon stares out the window and Brent gives up on any kind of conversation after a few failed attempts. Patrick is wondering what the hell is going on.

The goodnights are mumbled hurriedly and the way Jon fumbles with his keys is the only indication he might be a bit tipsy. Without thinking, Pat closes his palm over Jon’s hand and turns the key. The door opens but no one moves.

Jonathan turns to face him and there’s a tiny glint in his hooded eyes. Patrick can’t look away; it’s like that tiny spark has him trapped. He unconsciously runs his tongue over his bottom lip and swallows hard, mouth dry.

Jon’s hand lets go of the key, knocking Pat’s away in the process. It would have shaken him off his trance if Jon wasn’t taking a step closer at the same time.

He raises his hand and traces the hollow point under Pat’s eyes. Patrick draws a deep breath and holds it. All air has vanished from his lungs. He knows he shouldn’t crave but this very moment every cell in his body scream for Jon’s kiss.

“Deep blue, like a country song” Jon whispers as he smoothes the lines on the corner of Pat’s eyes.

“Jonny” Patrick breathes out. It rolls off his tongue like something familiar, wonted. This is it, he thinks, the moment he’ll close the gap and taste him. He knows he shouldn’t but he still wants it.

Jon’s eyes flutter shut, thumb blindly brushing over Pat’s cheekbones.

When he opens his eyes the spark is gone, all lights out and Pat gets lost in infinite dark. He blinks and his gaze crushes up on Jon’s walls.

Jon retracts his hand swiftly, allows Pat a last glance in his void, turns his back and makes his way inside.

It’s for the best he supposes, even if a part inside him he can’t identify plummets from the weight of disappointment.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys are pretty silent. i'd like to hear your thoughts on the story, if you like it or not.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the positive feedback, it means a lot!

Instead of the much anticipated Sunday barbeque Patrick finds himself home alone. Everyone is visiting Duncan at the hospital and Etienne isn’t back yet. Patrick takes the opportunity to call his family and although they hound him for details he gives none. Part of the agreement with Sharp was that no one would know the true nature of their bet. He doesn’t know if that includes his family but he isn’t taking any chances.

Phone use was not discussed between him and Jon but he figures he’d tell him anyway and offer to pay the expense. Jon can deduct it from his next pay check; he needs the cash more than Pat anyway.  

He calls his team as well giving them a rough draft of his idea, vague outlines since he doesn’t have much to go with; research will have to wait till he is back home.

He visits the barn and the coop, he watches some TV, he even takes a power nap and he still has too much free time in his hand. He considers going out but he doesn’t have a car; he doesn’t have keys to the house either. He feels confined.

He doesn’t particularly want to roam around the fields so he decides to do laundry.  Half-way through his bunch he figures it’d be nice to take some workload off Jon’s back so he does theirs as well. While waiting for the clothes to wash and dry, he vacuums, mops and dusts.

He isn’t much of a cook so he settles for some easy Mac and cheese, and after eating he takes out the ironing board and goes to work.

Half-way through the door opens and Etienne rushes inside followed by a gloomy looking Jon “Pat! We back!” the cheerful voice announces.

He runs up to him and hugs his legs. Pat chuckles and crouches down to hug back “Welcome back, kiddo. I missed you” the moment the words are out of his mouth he realises he means them. He was getting used to having the boy around.

“Missed you, too. Grammy not know how to stop Ace dig holes! He ruin all her flowers but I say you fix them like you fix ours that time” the boy realises what he said and turns to look at Jon with a horrified look.

Pat looks as well but Jon seems more perplexed than angry. Etienne covers his mouth with his palm “I not ‘spose to say! Sorry”

Patrick ruffles his hair “That’s OK buddy. Did you have a good time?” he changes the subject because he does not want to have to explain that incident to Jon.

Etienne nods “I go fish with Grandpa and Grammy make cookies and we play in the swings but then it was night and after Grammy make pancakes and I see ‘lodeon oh and before Grammy reads me that book you not know how. Grammy say it’s OK you not read French and I can teach you. I know how ‘cause maman was French and Grammy is French-‘nadian so I know but you not so I can show you how, yeah?” he says it all in one breath and Patrick can’t help but beam at him.

   “Sure thing, Eti. Now why don’t you go put Ace in your room so you can come eat? I made Mac and cheese” he suggests; there’s so much warmth in him, so much fondness for the little guy, much more than he can handle, much more than it’s allowed so he needs to distance himself.

Etienne brightens up at that but hesitates “Can I, papa?” he asks turning to Jon.

Patrick can’t read Jon’s expression and for a moment he panics, fearing he has over stepped his boundaries again.

Jon clears his throat “Sure thing, buddy. Go on. Call me if you need help, ok?”

Etienne nods and climbs the stairs carefully. Patrick turns to Jon, unsure and hesitant “Sorry, if I-“

Jon shakes his head and motions to the ironing board “What are you doing?”

Patrick blinks and looks down as if he has forgotten what he was doing “Oh, I was bored so I did laundry. I hope you don’t mind. I tidied up a bit too. I didn’t go into your room or Etienne’s” he says “Didn’t go to your office either” he adds.

Jon seem speechless “I- you- you didn’t have to do any of that”

Patrick waves his hands dismissively “It’s nothing! Like I said, I was bored and- no offense, but you’re kind of a slob”

He expects Jon to protest but he looks sheepish instead “Yeah, I- thanks”

“No problem. I live here too so I figured I could help where I can. I already caused you enough trouble” staying here-staying was what he meant to say; live suggests permanency and Pat is temporary.

“You’re not really that bad” Jon offers.

Patrick raises his brow in disbelief. Jon chuckles; it’s a lovely sound “Yeah, OK, you have your moments”

“Go check on Eti and clean up. I need to finish a couple more and we can have lunch”

Jon goes without arguing.

 

 

Jon is supposed to be sorting his papers and tidying up his desk but instead he keeps battling with himself, torn in half debating between duties and want. He can’t deny his attraction to Pat any longer. He still has some control over himself but he can feel it slowly but surely slipping away. If it was just a carnal need, he thinks he would have given up already and allowed himself a few weeks of pleasure. Unfortunately for him, it feels like more.

Where the media see a loud, promiscuous party-loving dude, Jon sees a man who huddles in the couch watching TV quietly or hides in his room rendering himself almost invisible in the house, a man who sprawls on the floor to built Lego castles with a young boy and helps him hide evidence of a bunny’s crimes. Where they see a fluke who built a fortune out of sheer luck that now squanders away in luxury, Jon sees a man- a flawed man if you will, reckless even, who lost the earth beneath his feet and he still managed to stay upright, having enough inner strength to keep on smiling.

Where his friends see a liability, Jon sees potential; he sees willingness to learn and better himself. He sees a guy who probably had cooks and cleaning crews tidy up a place, do laundry and fix a meal. He sees hard work and determination, he sees a spark that turns to flame, he sees-

Jon sees a lot of things- mostly he sees the kind of dreams you have with your eyes open. He sees a future that is not meant to be; because no matter what Jon sees, his and Pat’s visions are not the same. 

There’s a knock on the door and Jon is relieved for the interruption. It’s dangerous for him to get lost in those kinds of thoughts. “Come in”

Patrick’s head peeks through the half open door “Sorry to interrupt. I was wondering if I could use your computer.”

Jon is thrown out of the loop, not from the request but from Pat’s presence in this room. He realises it’s the first time he ever sets foot in there. He has such a hopeful expression in his face that Jon’s unable to deny him “Yeah, sure, come in” he says as he scrambles his papers around “Excuse the mess” he adds, feeling a bit embarrassed by his study’s state.

Patrick snorts softly “Don’t worry about it. I already figured out you’re a slob, remember?”

The tips of his ears pink “It’s comforting actually to know you fail at something” Pat adds. 

 Jon doesn’t have a remark to that “I’m actually working on something right now but there’s a netbook somewhere in that cupboard. Help yourself” he points Pat to the right direction.

“Thanks. I won’t bother you; I can take it downstairs to my room and bring it back when I’m done”

“You can keep it as long as you want. I barely use it” Patrick doesn’t need to know that his computer skills are limited to googling, emailing and skyping-he certainly doesn’t have to know how long it took him exactly to master those simple tasks.

Patrick opens the cupboard and a wide range of paper fall into the floor. Jon had forgotten he just shoved them in there with no order whatsoever.

Patrick raises his eyebrow at him again and Jon is beginning to hate that look; it makes him feel like he’s being chastised without a single word.

He rushes over trying to grab the papers “Dude, it’s OK, chill. I’ll put them back...in order”

“Oh, fuck you”

Patrick chuckles and starts helping Jon tidy up “Oh, WOW” he exclaims and Jon turns to see what has him thrilled. Patrick is holding some old photos from his college years and looks mightily surprised.

“I know how to have fun” he says offended; he hates when people assume otherwise.

“Clearly” he points at one where Jon is on a friend’s lap, holding a beer cup.

“Shut up” he can’t help the way his cheeks flush; he doesn’t have a reason to be self-conscious but he can’t help the reaction. He busies himself with the rest of the papers so Pat won’t see the pink that tints his cheeks.

“I didn’t know you played” Pat says again after a while. He holds a picture of Jon on the ice, back turned, his name plastered on his jersey

“A long time ago” he comments unnecessarily.

“What happened?”

Jon looks at him and gives him a sad smile, he stretches his face enough the way he knows his scars are more prominent and circles his hand around them “The car crash happened; killed my brother and my sister in law along with any chance for a hockey carrier. But hey,” he shrugs “it gave me Etienne and a new goal in life, so-“

He can see Pat’s Adam’s apple move and how difficult it’s for him to swallow. He also catches the movement when Pat runs his thumb over his scarred wrist. It’s not pity he finds there, it’s understanding.

“Hard isn’t it?” he comments; he doesn’t know if he’s referring to the memories or talking about the past.

Pat only nods “I saw you play once, you were really good” he offers.

Pat’s head shoots up, eyes wide “Really?” he croaks.

“Wait” he says and goes through a couple of orange envelops to find what he’s looking for “Here, see?” he passes some pictures to Pat when he finds them “The Toronto tournament back in ’99. I didn’t remember at first, it’s not like we actually introduced ourselves. You had a buzz cut and you thankfully outgrew your ears” he tries a harmless tease to ease the tension.

Patrick’s eyes are glued to the photos, Jon doesn’t know what he’s looking for exactly since there are from his team and not Pat’s.

“It’s you” Patrick breathes.

 

 

 

_Tears well in Pat’s eyes, it takes all of his strength to blink them away “We’re really sorry but if they decide to go hard on him to stop him from scoring there’s no way we can guarantee his safety” the man says and Patrick shrinks further, trying to make himself invisible._

_He shuts the man out, his father’s angry response as well. He doesn’t want to hear more excuses and arguments. Patrick wants to play hockey._

_“Hey, Buzz” his father’s voice soft and apologetic “We can leave if you want” he gives him an option, a way out, though Patrick knows what it must have cost him to even suggest it. It’s not even about the money he spent, or how he dragged his little girls out there with them. He knows that whatever hurt he feels it reflects to his father as well._

_Patrick can’t let anyone down even if that’s what everyone does to him. He shakes his head “No, I’ll play with the others”_

_That’s how he finds himself playing with a bunch of eight, nine year-olds and not even his personal score can ease the tightness in his chest. When it’s all over he doesn’t stay on ice, he takes off his helmet and walks straight towards the locker rooms._

_A raspy voice stops him in his tracks “You don’t belong here” the voice says and it hurts worse than being checked in the boards, worse than the slash on his wrist or a puck to the face. Pat breathes deeply, gathering his courage to retaliate, he won’t let anyone put him down; He deserves better than this, all of this._

_He looks up and sees deep, dark eyes focused on him; the boy must be around Patrick’s age-he wears the jersey Patrick should have worn, a C decorates his left side. He didn’t think it was possible to feel more intense pain but somehow he does._

_The boy holds his stare “You should be playing with us” he says._

_Patrick’s mouth hangs open and his eyes water for a completely different reason entirely._

_He doesn’t get a chance to reply, a hand on his arm pulls him away. He turns his head and the boy is still looking. Patrick gifts him his widest, most beaming smile- tooth and all._

   Jonathan sits there and listens to Pat, hangs on to his every word and each syllable touches something primitive and protective inside him. It’s not the incident in itself but the horror Pat had lived, how his bottom lip wobbles as he explains he was always told he was too... something and never enough, and he can’t understand how people can be so cruel, how they can’t realise the damage words can inflict especially on a boy who only just ever wanted to play the sport he loved.

Jon wants to be able to relate, to have a sense of what that must have felt like but Jon’s harshest critic had always been himself and nothing anyone ever said managed to touch him because his own mind had always gone there first.

With every revelation Patrick inches a little closer like he’s unwillingly seeking comfort or a brace to keep him afloat. Jon wants to be that for him he realises so when Patrick closes the gap and kisses him all hot and needy he can’t do anything but kiss back.

It’s nothing he ever felt before; it’s a push and pull and though he always liked some contest in bed or otherwise this feels like a battle. Patrick doesn’t push to gain ground; he pushes so he’d be pushed away in return.

When Patrick’s hands wander lower, finding Jon’s belt and fumbling to get it open the sound of clinging metal dissolves the fog from his lust-filled brain.

“Pat- Pat wait” he uses all the inner strength he possesses to get the words out.

Patrick whines and though he doesn’t take his hands off he stops. Hooded eyes shoot up to find his and Jon has to bite the inside of his cheek to suppress the moan that threatens to escape “No- not like this” he says “If this is some sort of misguided gratitude-“ Patrick is so emotionally fragile he feels like he’s taking advantage and he can’t be that guy-he doesn’t want to.

“No! Jonny, no” his voice is raspy and weak and Jonathan has to shut his eyes and grind his teeth to keep himself from giving in.

Jon is currently standing on a grey line, some sort of limbo which is on neither side and on both at once. It’ll take a simple head bow, not even an inch to make everything clear, define them. It’s a moment of truth and the verge of walking away intact or falling head first damn the consequences.

He opens his eyes and is faced with infinite blue, troubled waters. Emotions in them like waves, floating in and out unsure on where to settle “If we do this- I- We can walk away now, it’s...we have time...it’s early enough” he was never good with words and they always fail him when he needs them the most “I can’t do casual, Pat” he offers “I have responsibilities and people who depend on me. We can walk away now” he repeats because that’s the point, they leave it be now that it doesn’t mean as much as it potentially could; they walk away now and no one gets hurt because Jonny is not in love with him yet but oh, he so easily could “If- if there’s a chance, if you can stay-then maybe-“

Patrick said to him once not long ago to never make promises so that’s the closest he can offer but Patrick’s face instantly falls and every trace of lust disappears; he drops his hands as if the medal is burning them.

“I...Jonny, I can’t” he chokes on the words and Jon can read the guilt and regret in his eyes. It doesn’t help him any. “I’m sorry- so sorry-I-”

The corners of Jon’s mouth move, though not into a smile “I understand” he cuts Pat off. He doesn’t want Pat’s apologies; they are no use to him. He has his answer and he steps on the other side of the line.

     

 

 

Patrick’s terrified. Everything is happening too fast and all at once; unfamiliar territory that leaves him in jitters. He doesn’t want to think why his heart flutters when he’s near Jon, why Etienne’s laughter makes something in him swell. He doesn’t try to make out why his stomach twists in knots every time he denies Jonathan. It’s too much, too soon and he’s just not equipped to handle it.

Sharp sent him here in the hopes he’ll realise that his ‘adventures’ were a waste of time but what Patrick fears is that they have the potential to work better than expected; or in his case...worse.

He came to a house that it’s actually a home, strange yet familiar in a way déjà vu feels. He sits on a couch that’s much like his at home, with people who could easily be his friends yet nothing belongs to him and he has no right to keep any of it. Because Patrick has his own home, friends and family miles away that isn’t in the middle of nowhere and where he has made a space for himself instead of trying desperately to fit in...Or avoid trying.

He needs to clear his head and focus on his mission. Survive for a little over a fortnight, win the bet and forget this place even exists.

“You look about as well as I feel” PK’s voice startles him “What gives? Is the boss man in a mood again?”

“He might be now” he answers truthfully “What’s wrong with you?” he needs to avoid any more Jon related questions.

PK shrugs but Patrick doesn’t buy the nonchalant attitude “Anything I can help with?”

PK seems to contemplate on it, whether to trust him or whether he can help, Patrick doesn’t know “Do you know a way to stop being in love?” he finally asks.

“Considering I’ve never been, I wouldn’t know how to fall out of it” he thinks that the fact he has never allowed himself to be close enough to someone to be that vulnerable should remain unmentioned.

“Man, really?” PK sounds surprised though Patrick would have expected advice on how he got away with it “That...that kind of sucks”

It’s Patrick’s turn to be baffled “Really? I think it works great for me ‘cause I don’t end up looking like you do right now” the reply was harsher than he intended.

“It’s worth it some days”

 “And all the rest?”

PK shrugs again “You find a way to get by”

“What he do to you?” PK has the decency to not play dumb and ask him who he’s talking bout.

“He...he kissed me. At the bar”

Patrick cracks a smile “Dude! That’s awesome, right?”

PK shakes his head “Said he’s sorry, after. Never should have happened”

It sounds so familiar to Patrick he tries to refrain from wincing “Why?”

PK shrugs again “Don’t know. Didn’t listen much after that. Don’t care to be honest. I mean, a year, man... a year I’ve been hoping and I never...I didn’t even make the move. Why the hell do you kiss someone if you’re gonna apologize later?”

Patrick does wince at that “Maybe he has his reasons” he says timidly, it’s a weak excuse even to his own ears.

“Didn’t those reasons exist when he kissed me?”

That’s a very valid point and Patrick has no answer to that “Some things are complicated, man. It’s not always so black and white”

PK doesn’t answer and Patrick runs his answer over once again “Oh my God...I didn’t mean...I wasn’t thinking...was that offensive?” he hopes he sounds as horrified as he feels.

To his amazement, PK laughs loudly, head tilting back and body shaking “You know, when you try to be all considerate that’s when you fail the most”

Patrick doesn’t know if the you is in reference to him or the entire Caucasian race but either way it makes him feel like shit “Sorry” he apologizes sheepishly.

PK shakes his head clearly amused “Don’t sweat it, man. You managed to cheer me up”

“I’ll do you one better” the plan is forming in his brain cells as he speaks, this is what Patrick does best.

PK frowns “Like what?”

“Do you trust me?” he asks

He seems unsure and Pat can’t really blame him, they barely even know each other “Trust me” he says firmly.

 

 

 

Dinner is served in full company and Patrick couldn’t have done better if he had planned it himself. It’s more than a little awkward as both Carey and Jon actively avoid looking around the table but Etienne gets all their undivided attention and his good disposition makes everything a little more bearable.

Patrick is sitting next to PK and nudges his foot lightly to give him the signal; the last thing the plan needs is for him to be caught unaware.

“Hey...Carey?” Patrick starts and Carey looks up at him “Can I ask a favour?”

If Carey is surprised it doesn’t show “Sure”

“Can I borrow your car for tonight?” he is a pro at his, he’s sure he keeps his features neutral.

“What for?” valid question and oh so welcomed.

“I want to take PK out for a drink” he says but doesn’t look at Carey, he turns to PK and smiles at him, all wide and dimpled. PK returns it.

There’s a clang of cutlery colliding with porcelain and though Patrick expected it to come from Carey’s way it actually comes from Jon. That was something he hadn’t factored in when he came up with the plan but maybe it’s better this way. It’d be for the best if he went back to thinking of him as a flake, an untrustworthy dandruff unworthy of neither his time nor attention.

“No” one word reply from Carey, harsh and firm has everyone around the table turning their eyes on him.

Carey flushes deep red and turns his eyes downcast “I mean- I need the car tonight.”

“Oh” Patrick muffles his urge to grin widely with the best disappointed sound he can master. “Maybe tomorrow?” asks hopefully but directed neither at Carey nor PK and both at once.

Jon stands up and Patrick freezes, terrified. He reluctantly looks up to him and regrets it immediately. Jon’s eyes are dark, his face hard and he can see the vein in his forehead twitch “Here, you can have mine” he says as he fishes his keys out of his pocket and throws them Patrick’s way. “Have fun” he adds, jaw clenched and teeth grinding.

Patrick expects a dramatic exit, Jon storming off without looking back but instead he sits back down and continues with his food.

“Thanks” he croaks and he doesn’t know if it’s even audible because the only sound that reaches his ears is from something inside him cracking.

 

 

PK and Patrick do not go out that night.

The visible deep, purple marks on PK’s neck and collarbone-which he makes no attempt to hide-, are sadly not enough to lull Patrick’s guilt.

The unprecedented for its time warm weather is not enough either to melt Jon’s icy glares. Scarce as they may be, they prickle Patrick right in the chest.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Time is a fickle partner; just when Patrick thought the days dragged on almost a week passed and he has no idea where the hours went.

Things have done a 180 and have left him unbalanced. He expected Jon to be cold and pungent and instead he acts like nothing ever happened. He doesn’t avoid him or try to push him away but he doesn’t encourage him on anything either.

Patrick is the one who tip toes around him, all guilt-ridden and though they’ve settled in a routine it reminds Pat of his aunt’s separation where she and her husband still lived under the same roof, his cousins acting as intermediates.

And while PK was supposed to be on cloud nine, he walks around moping like a kicked puppy. “You gave in too quickly. You should have let him steam” Patrick advices.

“I don’t like playing those kinds of games. I just thought that...I don’t know. It’s not all bad. He just gets quiet and distant at times”

“You need to talk to him. The reasons he had...they must be still there. Ask him, man or you’ll just keep being miserable.”

PK nods “I want to...I’m just...”

“Afraid of what they might be?”

“Yeah” PK replies with a heavy sigh “He keeps avoiding me all day. That’s why he offered to pick up Eti from the school bus, to get away”

“Dude, he’ll be gone like fifteen minutes tops, it’s not like he bailed on you” Patrick tries to be the voice of reason “Though Jon is a bit weird as well today. He keeps talking on the phone. Do you think there’s something wrong with the farm?” that would explain things.

“Oh, no, man. I would have known. Plus, Jon’s just making weekend plans” PK seems pretty sure about that statement.

“What weekend plans?” it’s the first time Pat hears about it and he doesn’t know why it bothers him.

“He’s going up to the cabin with a fishing buddy. They do it every year when the weather seems to hold”

Something in that sentence irks him “Fishing buddy?” he tries not to squeal “Regular or Brokeback Mountain?”

PK lets out a throaty laugh “Man, where do you come up with these things?”

He wants to point out that he’s been very considerate of PK’s problems but that will probably give the wrong impression “It’s a natural talent” he grins.

PK shakes his head. “So?” he asks again unable to resist the urge.

“Regular, as far as I know. Why do you ask?” there’s an eerie note in his voice that makes Pat uncomfortable.

“No reason, man. Just curious” he shrugs for good measure. PK’s look implies he’s not convinced.

They hear a car approaching and Pat guesses Carey and Etienne are back “Come on, let’s go inside. You don’t want him to think you’re sitting out here pining after him. And remember, play it cool.”

“Are you sure? I don’t think-“

“Trust me” Patrick says and drags PK inside.

“That didn’t work that well for me last time” PK mumbles.

“Dude, so not my fault! Trust me on this, I’m a pro!” it’s not bragging when it’s true.

PK settles on the table and Patrick helps Jon set everything up; it is part of their freaky routine and it beats sitting around fidgeting in his chair.

Etienne rushes in and heads straight to the kitchen. He runs up to Jon and stares him down “You marry NOW” he blurts trying to sound as authoritarian as a three and a half year old can.

Patrick knocks the water bottle and Jon drops the plate he was holding, mouth agape “Excuse me?” his eyes are wide and he looks a bit horrified.

“You” Etienne points at Jon “need marry”

Jon pauses, trying to recollect himself Patrick guesses, and crouches down to be on Etienne’s level “Where did that come from, buddy?”

“Sylvie’s mom get marry and they go to Be’ville. You marry, we go too and find Bran and Andy”

Patrick is really confused but Jon seems to understand what’s going on. He sits on the nearest chair and motions Etienne to go to him. He picks the boy up and settles him on his lap “Buddy, not all people who get married go to Belleville. Even if I was to get married, we’d still stay here”

Etienne’s face falls “But Bran and Andy-“

“Remember what Brandon told you when they left? That Andrew is a little sad and they’ll go see his mom to make it better?”

The little boy seems puzzled “But when you go to grammy you more sad.”

Patrick sees Jon go all stiff “I- It’s- that’s not grammy’s fault, sweetheart”

Etienne nods like he knows “you sad ‘cause papa Dave’s room, eh?”

Pat can see the effort Jon makes to swallow. His voice when he talks barely registers “It’s- I- it’s like when you go to school, yeah? You don’t miss me much then do you?”

The boy thinks it over for a moment “Sometimes but we play and sing and I make you bunnies and we colour-“

Jon nods “but if you came home and I wasn’t here, you’d miss me then, yeah?”

Etienne looks horrified “Where you go?”

Jon’s shaking hands caress the boy’s hair “I won’t go anywhere, buddy but if- I said if I wasn’t here”

“’Course I miss you but you no leave” the boy seems to struggle to not let the tears that shine his eyes drop.

“No, no I won’t. But when I-“Jon swallows hard again “when we go to grammy’s I just miss him more because he used to be there and now he’s not”

Patrick thinks that it takes too much strength for Jon to utter those words and his heart breaks a little. Etienne bobs his head like he understands but he’s still unsure of something.

“You no marry ‘cause me?” the boy almost whispers.

“What?” a screech leaves Jon’s throat “Why would you ever think that?”

Etienne bites his bottom lip “I hear Andy and Bran talk. I no mean to, swear!” the boy panics a bit.

“You’re not in trouble, buddy. What did they say?”

“They say you has girl before and she no like you no has hockey no more but has me so she leaved”

Patrick feels a crack under his ribcages mussed with a wave of heartache. How much guilt must the boy have been carrying, thinking he was somehow at fault?

Jon’s voice sounds fierce “Listen to me, ok? That’s not what they meant, yeah? You had nothing to do with that, OK? That girl and I- we just, didn’t love each other, yeah? That’s just it! She wasn’t right for us.”

“’Cause you like boys, too?” Etienne asks and Jon goes from sheet white to beetroot red in a second “I no care, he be papa three”

“No, baby- it’s because- For someone to get married they need to find a person they love best, someone who’ll be exactly what they need. When I find someone like that...someone you and I both love best then I promise I will, OK? I promise”

  The boy’s thinking face is adorable, all frowns and wrinkled nose “OK” he consents in the end. “Can I has food now?”

Jon’s sigh of relief is something Patrick has never heard before; it’s like a weight has been lifted and he can finally breath.

 

 

Patrick and Etienne are sitting on the floor working on a collage for the boy’s class while Jon is doing the dishes in the kitchen, when the boy turns to Pat “You like the farm?” he asks.

Patrick’s taken aback by the abrupt question “Sure, buddy” he says. It’s not an actual lie, he likes the place, it’s the work he’s struggling with.

“You like papa, too? Papa is sooo good” the boy stresses the words.

“He’s great, Eti” he is, Patrick thinks, that’s the problem.

Etienne bites the corner of his bottom lip “You like me?” he asks that more shyly, almost reluctant.

“Of course, buddy. You’re the best” it’s the right answer he thinks because Etienne visibly lights up; it’s the truth as well. Patrick is very fond of him, much more than he should, he supposes.

“I like you too” he whispers like it’s a secret.

Patrick ruffles his hair “Thanks” he can’t help but beam.

There’s a pause and Etienne opens his mouth, and then closes it again. He repeats the motion and Patrick looks at him tilting his head, questioning. His expression is soft hoping to encourage the boy who seems nervous.

“You wanna- maybe-“the boy sighs

“Do I wanna what, buddy? You can tell me, it’s OK”

“You wanna be my papa, Pat?”

Patrick freezes.

“Pwease”

A giant lump sticks right on Pat’s throat and it makes it hard for him to breathe. He’s battling with the tears that forming in his eyes and the swell in his chest and the unexpected urge to...flee. Etienne’s looking at him with so much hope and Patrick feels trapped.

He clears his throat “You already have a papa, Eti” he states the obvious.

Etienne nods “Papa Dave’s in heaven and papa Jonny’s alone. I no want Hute be papa’s friend”

Patrick curses himself for ever telling Etienne that story “Hute is not going to visit Jon, Eti because he’s not alone. He has you and the guys and your grammy and granpa, yeah?”

“But...he no can marry us. You no wanna be papa ‘cause you’re ‘merican? Is OK, you can be dad if want”

What Patrick wants is to be invisible; better yet he wants to have been able to turn the clock back and this conversation to never have happened.

“It doesn’t work like that, buddy. It’s a complicated grown up thing, yeah? Plus, you know I’m only here until Duncan gets back, right?”

Etienne’s crestfallen face will haunt Patrick forever “I know”

“I’m sorry” he whispers. It doesn’t help any but he feels like he should be.

“Can you no stay, too? Uncle Duncs is so cool, he no mind” Patrick feels like shit, he’s about to shred the last thread of hope the boy possesses.

“I’m sure he is” he doesn’t know what to say; he doesn’t even know what’s happening inside his chest-what’s that he’s feeling

“If I ask papa to keep you? He no say no to me”

“I know, bud. Your papa would do anything for you but he can’t keep me. They won’t need me, I won’t have anything to do here”

“You can play wif me. We colour and make papa stuff” he looks so hopeful, his eyes glowing like he found the answer to the universe questions.

“That’s not a job, Eti. I do that because I want to not because I get paid. I do it because we’re friends” he can’t deal with any other labels than this one.

 The boy gives him a reluctant nod and he doesn’t make a move to wipe the tears that are running on his cheeks.

Patrick’s heart shutters into a million tiny pieces. He opens his arms and Etienne runs to hide in there. “You and me, we’re buddies, yeah? And no matter where I go that won’t change, ok? I promise” at least this is one promise he’s allowed to make.

He feels Etienne nod in the crook of his neck where he hides his face. Patrick can do nothing but rub soothing circles on his back and hold him tight.

 

 

 

Patrick is unsure at first as to why he’s never seen all of them play video games before or why it was so important that Etienne leaves for his grandparents’ house first but after about half an hour he gets a clear picture.

Jon and PK are sitting on the couch pushing buttons and jumping on their seat; well, Jon does at least. PK laughs and somehow it angers Jonathan more.

Patrick is not sure if he wants to interject but clearly Jon is working on a wrong strategy “Push your underbarrell button, it’s easier to switch-“

“Don’t you think I fucking know that? What do you think I’m trying to do here?” Jon yells without even looking at him, stabbing the buttons on his controller.

“I was just saying that maybe-“

“Shut the fuck up!” Jon’s voice goes to a higher level than Patrick had ever heard and he’s never been that aggressive with him either.

“Die you fucker, die!” he continues to scream tagging the cord closer like he’s going to rope the enemy even closer to hit his target.

Patrick wants to point out that it’s not helping his case but he doesn’t want to be yelled at again.

“Either sit back down or go outside. I don’t want you hovering above me like the Grim Reaper” Jon says calmer now and Pat can see on the screen that his character is advancing forward.

PK doesn’t stop grinning the whole time like he’s into some sort of secret no one else is privileged to.  Brent is mostly absent and Patrick doesn’t know if it’s common occurrence or due to the fact that Duncan is still in the hospital, so his only option is to hang out in the porch with Carey who doesn’t seem interested in anything that’s happening in the living room.

It beats having to sit here listening to Jon’s string of curses. He wouldn’t have pegged him for someone capable of having such a foul mouth. “Yeah, I’ll go-“he figures no one cares at this point and takes a few steps towards the door when he hesitates “Just so you know, using your blinds at this point would be your best option. Most of your enemies are looking at it and that would disorient them” he says it with a wide grin that Jon can’t see but he’s sure it’s pretty evident in his voice.

He doesn’t stay for the reaction, if there was any; he just grabs his beer and joins Carey outside. “Hey, what are you doing out here alone?”

“Staying away from the battlefield” Carey says without looking; he stares somewhere in the horizon.

“Not a fan of the game?”

Carey snorts “You think I’m talking about the game? I give it fifteen more minutes until Jon smashes yet another controller”

“Seriously?” he questions, though judging by earlier reactions he’s not sure why he finds it hard to believe.

“He’s more lethal than those weapons he fires”

Patrick finds it an accurate statement that has nothing to do with the game and everything to do with how off balance and out of control he makes Pat feel.

“What about PK?” he asks and this has nothing to do with the game either.

Carey stiffens “What about him?”

“I know it’s none of my business-“ he starts, because he shouldn’t meddle but he had a hand in the situation and he needs to do something to make it better to ease his guilt; also because he’s a hopeless romantic at heart and matchmaking is his missed calling in life.

“It’s not” Carey tries to cut the conversation short but Patrick doesn’t budge.

“Like I said-but man, you’re fucking it up. I don’t know what your issues are but he’s a decent guy and has done right by me and he doesn’t deserve you stringing him along”

Carey’s whole body posture’s changing and if Patrick could see his eyes he’s pretty sure there would be filled with guilt. Stubbornly, he doesn’t say anything.

Patrick takes another sip of his beer and stares at the horizon as well. Maybe it holds the secrets of the universe if Carey is determined to stare intensely at it.

“I don’t” Carey says after a while and it’s so hushed Patrick almost misses it.

“You kind of do, man. You’re hot and cold and the poor guy is so confused. I won’t pretend to have all my shit figured out but dude, PK- it doesn’t take much to make him happy- he needs simple things.

“I’m not what he needs” the way Carey says it sounds like regret, like he has somehow failed to live up to an expectation.

“I’m pretty sure you are. He does seem to think so” Patrick is a fan of letting people choose what they want and deserve on their own; it’s not like he forces them to fall in love-he just gives them time and space and the right circumstances; the rest is all their choice. He doesn’t understand why the Sharps don’t get that.

“We wouldn’t work in the long run” Carey is all gloom and doom and he’s dragging Patrick down with him.

“Why?” he’s genuinely curious now.

“Because-just- we’re too different, Patrick” if Patrick said he’s not taken aback from the use of his name he’d be a liar; he thinks it’s the first time Carey hasn’t called him ‘newbie’. “He’s all...PK” which is not a definition per se but Patrick gets it anyway “and I’m me. Like night and day. He’s...you know- _out there_ and I’m more often in my shell than not. I can’t be anything else and that would get tiring after a while”

“Don’t you think he knows you by now? He _likes_ what you are, who you are; those things that bother you is what PK saw and took an interest in you” he’s this close to say ‘that’s why he fell in love with you’, because he has a huge suspicion that this is not a simple crush but he’s not gonna give the guy away.

“We’re too different. I knew it and I was still selfish enough...too jealous... enough to not want him with you- no offense- so I acted without thinking, damn the consciences and now I fucked everything up; no matter what I do now, someone will end up getting hurt” Carey still keeps his eyes straight ahead and Patrick doesn’t know if it’s a way to hide the emotions they might betray or if the open sky is something he takes strength from.

“You’re already hurting; both of you” Patrick states the obvious “There’s no guarantee for the future, for anything man. You just have to think if he’s worth the risk. Maybe you get a broken heart, maybe you get a happy ending but you won’t know until you take the chance. It beats the alternative of always wondering what if” he’s kind of a hypocrite because he’s shielded his own heart years ago, built a fortress around it and never found himself tempted to even peek above it, let alone tear it down; but this is not about him so it doesn’t really matter.

“Do you think it’s easy?” Carey’s tone is harsher now, his hands balled into a fist. 

“It’s fucking hard, man and it’s fucking terrifying and _that_ my friend is your problem. Your fear blinds you. Being opposites doesn’t mean you’re incompatible-it means you complement each other. He loosens you up and you ground him; you balance each other out” he’s not sure where that statement came from, he has never consciously thought any of it before but it makes so much sense to him for some reason that he feels something inside him settling and taking roots.

Carey finally turns his gaze on him “If you’re such a love guru, why the fuck you’re alone man?” it’s not mean spirited and it’s not a deflection either; it’s genuine curiosity and proves that his words haven’t gone to waste.

The admission leaves his lips along with a heavy sigh “Because I’m a fucking coward”

 

 

 

Jon is trying to gather the ingredients for dinner while putting his scrambled thoughts in order. He tries to not actively pay attention to the voices that echo from the porch and to stop the fluttering in his chest to the mere thought that the door will open soon and Patrick will come back inside.

It’s insane. They barely know each other. Sure, he may know that Pat is a hard worker, improving by the day, and that he seems dedicated to be the best he can in the small span of time by asking question and making astute observations, he may also know that he’s great with kids and he has a way of making both him and Etienne smile; he can also admit that even though he’s not that great in the kitchen he always offers to help-chop something or set the table and always help clean up afterwards.

He knows that they work well together, on and off the field and even in their weirder state where they keep tiptoeing around each other they still manage to find a way to complete the tasks. He can also admit that he’s thoughtful and quiet and respects spaces and boundaries.

The little things though? Jonathan has no idea about those. What is his favourite colour? Pet peeves? Favourite season?  Is he a Sabres fan? Does he follow the Bills? What does he think when they spend their evenings on the couch channel surfing and he scrunches his nose? Where does his mind wonder when his eyes droop and the corner of his mouth twitches? What is his happy place?

There are a billion things Jon doesn’t know. He gets an itching sometimes to ask about his company and how that fell through. Why is not on the news yet? What is he going to do in a couple of weeks when he won’t be here? Where is he going to stay?

It’s so very soon to be that much involved. It’s so very soon to wish he’d have the funds to offer him a more permanent position. The question that is afraid the answer of is really, would Pat choose to stay if Jon was capable of keeping him? He thinks he knows. Who would be content with a quiet life in a somewhat struggling farm, having an almost four year old running around all day when they have lived the way Patrick used to?

“Hey, what are you doing?” Patrick interrupts his thoughts, looking a little flushed and relaxed as he enters the kitchen.

Jon feels his heart going double time in his chest “Did I scare you?” Pat continues and his guilt is evident though unnecessary “Sorry”

“Nah, I just wasn’t paying attention. Don’t worry about it” he replies dismissively.

“What are you making?” Patrick gestures towards the ingredients on the counter and it’s a good thing because he almost forgot he was supposed to be making dinner.

“Oh, just some pasta with sauce. I was about to chop the peppers” _if thoughts of you would leave me enough space to focus_ is left unsaid.

“Can I help?” Patrick offers

“Are you sure? You don’t have to. You can watch some TV, relax” _give me some space so that I can control my fast beating heart_ is something he can’t add. He hates that he’s losing control and acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. He’s a grown man and he should be able to control himself.

Mostly, he wishes, like the fool he is ‘cause they’re the only ones who believe in that anymore, that this was just a simple ‘I want to pin you on a bed and fuck you hard and fast so I can get you out of my system once and for all’ deal but it’s not.

Well, it is, kind of. He does want to pin Patrick on a bed to keep him there; he wants to mark his pasty white skin with purple marks that scream he belongs with Jon and fuck him in a way that would make him crave more. Mostly, he just wants to hold him after, cuddle with him and run his fingers in what he thinks would be silky hair and cook him breakfast in the morning and plan vacations and holidays for the three of them. That’s the dangerous part, the one that makes him think he’s going insane because by any standard they’re practically strangers and Patrick is ephemeral in their lives.

Patrick says something to him he doesn’t quite catch “What?”

“I said I don’t mind. You’re always cooking for us, it’s the least I can do” he shrugs “Are you sure you’re all right?” there’s concern there and Jon tries very hard to not snap. It’s irrational to blame him for his own unfulfilled desires.

“I’m fine. Just tired” he is, exhausted, the emotional kind that he’s not used to being. He doesn’t make a habit of struggling with himself.

“You didn’t have to cook, the boys are going out anyway and I would have made something quick. Or we could have ordered out. It’s OK once in a while”

“It helps me gather my thoughts, decompress” he offers lamely.

“You work too hard. You should relax or you’ll burn yourself out”

“I’m fine. I’m used to it.” He is so used to running 180 that if he stopped everything would come crashing down.

“Why don’t you go out?” Patrick asks.

“Out where?”

“Like...on a date” there’s a reluctance in his tone but the weight of the words still crash Jon right in the chest. Here he is thinking about the potential of a jointed life and Patrick just wants to... he’s such a fool.

“I don’t date” he snaps but he regrets it immediately, he’s not that lame and he doesn’t want Patrick to think so either; he has some pride left after all “I mean, I don’t go out that much with the farm and Etienne. Some things take precedence over others.”

“I can watch Eti for you if you want” Pat offers and Jon wants to throttle him “I mean, you don’t have to go on a date. You can go out with the boys, like last week”

“I do go out you know, I’m not a monk” he needs to reign it in because he’s feeling himself lose control “but thanks for the offer. I’ll keep it in mind”

Patrick just nods and smiles sweetly at him like he’s pleased and Jon is battling between kissing the life out of him and knocking him on the head for being so obliviously stupid. “Why don’t you go out?” _with me_ a little voice inside him whispers but he quickly shuts it up because clearly Pat would rather play matchmaker than consider a date with him.

“PK already asked but I figured I let him and Carey work their issues” he shrugs and Jon notes that’s something he does a lot. “If I’m bothering you, I can go to my room, no problem” he adds and something inside Jon tightens again. Patrick does that often too; trying to be invisible and Jonathan can’t help but think that he must have years of practice if he’s that successful.

“Nah, I was just going to watch a movie. You can join me if you want” he offers and it’s the right thing to say judging by Pat’s beaming smile “I could use the company” he adds because the thought that someone, somewhere at some point made Patrick feel like he had to hide away...

It’s like boxing the sunbeams and letting them wither away.

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Patrick tries to keep busy to avoid his mind from wandering to thoughts of the previous night. Sitting through dinner just the two of them, talking like normal people do without the pressure of the job and the constant bickering felt nice...too nice.

He doesn’t know why his mind filed away things like Jon’s love of vegetables or his aversion to anything with coriander, how he likes those foul smelling drinks but has a grand taste in fine wine as well that he drinks on special occasions, that a beer in the porch with the guys on warm nights is not the only way to have fun but he prefers it because it’s mostly quiet and it gives him a chance to decompress; how he could occasionally be funny with his dry jokes or that he has a small mole right below his right ear that Pat kept thinking it called to him to bite it.

He tucked away the knowledge Jon was willing to share about the farming business and he read between the lines of Jon’s hope of growing and expanding it and felt a ghostly hand squeeze his throat when he asked how come Pat’s misfortune –that’s what he called it, not failure or disaster- hadn’t hit the news yet. He had to make up a quick lie, something about his lawyer trying to prolong the inevitable and how since Pat is not out and about at this time he’s not news worthy. He blended a bit of a truth there, that it’ll probably hit in a couple of months when they should have launched the new software. Patrick is not going to be around then to watch the aftermath of his lie when it makes the news; he won’t have to see the hurt in his eyes when he hits the Forbes list once again as everyone is expecting.

He sat quietly on the couch next to Jon, pretending to watch the film, the heat from Jon’s body warming something deep inside him and tried to drown that inner voice that cried domesticity, ease and belonging. He still remembers Jon’s arm that snuck (not) so subtly on the couch right behind him or how his head lolled to the side at some point, eyes droopy, falling on Jon’s shoulder. He was too far gone but he still remembers wondering if his peach fuzz tickled Jon’s cheek and how the other man’s scent engulfed him before sleep took over him.

He remembers the cold, hard feeling of waking up alone, sprawled on that couch that turned into something different as he noticed a pillow tacked crookedly under his head and a blanket thrown all over him. He half expected a note on the table even though he knew where Jon would be but that would be foolish. That’s something couples do, or at least that’s what films and books would have you believe. It’s not like Patrick stays the morning after; he doesn’t even spend the night.

So he does the house chores like it’s his responsibility and scolds that tiny part of him that’s disappointed he didn’t get an invite to Jon’s Sunday fishing trip; it’s not like he likes fishing anyway. He makes his phone calls and uses the laptop Jon lend him for research and convinces himself that the best thing for all of them is for Patrick to do what he does best and find a suitable partner for Jonathan.

 His whole internal turmoil and newfound cause doesn’t seem to have reached some part of him because as he hears the door open the fluttering on his chest returns and his smile appears on its own accord as he turns his head to greet Jon.

“Not who you were expecting?” Brent asks when his face falls.

“I- I was just startled. I didn’t think anyone was here” he lies.

Brent smirks like he’s not fooled but he doesn’t commend further “Jonny’s not back yet?”

“No. Did you want some help?” he asks because Brent looks like he’s been working though Pat knows that Jon gives the guys the day off every week.

Brent looks down on his self like he forgot he was on his working clothes “Oh, no. I just needed to ask him what we’re going to do about the Downtown BIZ market. The date is coming up and we haven’t made plans yet.”

Patrick’s puzzlement must be evident because Brent continues “It’s a thing here, it happens pretty much all around the year but we only participate mid to late spring. It’s a way to give access to fresh local food products and raise awareness. They fill the remaining spots with jewellery and crafts and it works well for everyone.”

“That sounds nice” he says dumbly because...it does but mostly he doesn’t know what else to say.

Brent laughs “It’s chaos but yeah, it’s great but we need a plan if we’re gonna make it this year now that we’re shorthanded.”

“I could help, if you tell me what to do”he offers, but Brent’s smile vanishes, “ or not, it was stupid, what do I know anyway?” he tries to sound nonchalant but he’s not sure he manages it.

 Brent comes closer and puts his hand on Pat’s shoulder “That would be great actually, thank you. I just thought...I was under the impression you wouldn’t be here by then”

Patrick swallows the bile that always rises in his mouth when he thinks people are dismissing his capability and breathes more freely “When is it?”

“April 16th” Brent answers with a sad edge in his voice. Patrick gets it now. It’s way past his ‘expiration’ date.

“You could always hire someone part time, right?” he asks because he can’t make any promises he can’t keep.

“No money for that, unfortunately. Maybe next year if everything goes well” Brent cards his fingers through his head and he has a slightly defeated look on his face and Patrick tries to understand what it’s like to struggle with money. His family was well off even before he became rich himself. “Hey, don’t worry about it” Brent says and now Patrick wonders if he’s transparent and anyone can realize what he’s thinking all the time “I’ll talk to Jon about it later”

“Sure. Want something to eat? There’s leftover sauce from yesterday and you’re lucky I can make pasta”

Brent chuckles “Thanks, man but I have to change and go by the hospital”

“How’s your-friend?” he hesitates because he’s not sure what their relationship is exactly.

“He’s doing much better” Brent beams now “They’re gonna run some test tomorrow and they’ll be able to give an estimate on when he’ll be ready to be released”

This is Patrick’s way out. If Duncan comes back earlier than the month time line then he’d be free to go, gloat to Sharp about winning the bet and go back to his life.

Why isn’t he as thrilled as he should be?

 

 

It’s the sound of PK’s voice all frustrated and defeated that makes Patrick rush outside rather than the unknown car in the driveway. He’s not very sure what he’d be able to do if there’s trouble but he needs to know what’s happening.

He rushes down the porch steps and thanks God he doesn’t trip and fall flat on his face. PK is standing next to the car, driver’s door open yelling at someone on the back seat.

“What’s going on?”

PK turns round face pinched “They’re hammered that’s what’s going on! All three of them!”

Patrick hasn’t seen PK in this state before so he gets past him and peeks through the car. Carey is sitting up front on the passenger side head pressed on the window. In the back Jon’s giggling-giggling for the love of God- and a mop of dark wavy hair is pressed to his shoulder. Patrick can’t see the guy’s face.

“Pat” Jon yells as he sees him “Hi” he waves his hand and dissolves in another fit of giggles. The other guy lifts his head and opens his eyes “That the new guy?” he asks checking Patrick out. Great, now he’s going to be judged for being inadequate farm material by some drunk.

Jon just nods “Be careful” the guy says and even though Patrick thinks he’s warning him about something it’s Jon that nods his head again. “They sneak into your house and weasel themselves into your heart to up and leave you ‘cause you don’t tell them you love them enough. Like we can all go around with our hearts on our sleeves” the guy is using his hands in gestures Pat can’t even figure out but continues to talk all in one breath, coherently enough for someone that far out of it “it’s not enough you show them every day, no, no, you have to hold their hands and buy them flowers and tell them how much you wove them like we’re preschoolers. How is that fair?” he sets his head on Jon’s shoulder again with a groan and Jonathan reaches up and pats him on the head in what is probably intended as a comfort gesture.

“He’s been going at it the whole way back” PK sighs “I can’t get them out”

Patrick can spot a broken heart a mile away and he’d be inclined to be more sympathetic if he wasn’t plastered all over Jon’s side. Maybe Pat has decided to find Jon a partner but that sight is far from what he had in mind for a potential candidate.

“I should have fallen in love with you” the guy whines at Jon causing Pat to snap his head back into the car “I should fall in love with you” he adds with determination and grabs Jon’s face and plants a hard kiss. It’s uncoordinated and caches Jon in the space between upper lip and nose. Jon giggles again and Pat has the urge to throttle someone.

“Wow there Romeo, maybe you should wait until you’re all sober to put the moves on someone” he did intend to be as harsh as he sounds. He walks to the back door on Jon’s side as he talks and yanks it open “Come on” he urges as he tries to untangle them and get Jon out of the car “Time to sleep it off”

“Good thinking” PK says “I’ll grab Mike and help you get them inside”

Patrick’s reply is instant “Are you serious?” he asks hoping to stop PK “Where would I put him exactly? The couch or Jon’s bed” the last one comes out a bit more horrified than necessary “Etienne’s gonna be back soon. What will I tell him? This is not a sight suitable for a kid”

PK’s about to answer when what he said hits Patrick like a brick wall “Shit! Etienne! Wasn’t Jon supposed to pick him up? I don’t have his parents’ address or phone number. What are we gonna do, PK? Brent’s in the hospital and Carey’s no help and the boy needs to-“

“Dude, relax” PK says. He approaches Pat and helps him pick Jon back up since he was sliding off of Pat’s grip “They’d taken him to skate today and his teacher is a friend. He’ll bring him home himself after the lesson”

Patrick exhales with relief “Stand up straight for fuck’s sake” he says to Jon that’s been trickling off both their grips and snaps back when he hears Mike mumbling something from the back seat “and you-just shut the fuck up!”

PK helps him carry Jon up the porch steps “Why did you let them drink so much?” Patrick accuses.

PK doesn’t seem to take offense “I wasn’t there, man. I was at the rink too when they called. Thank God for that or else who knows what-“he leaves that sentence unfinished and Pat is so thankful because he doesn’t want to think the alternative.

“I should have been there” Jon chimes in out of the blue “I should be the one teaching him” his words are slurred but they make sense anyway, so much that they hit Pat right in the chest by how guilty Jon actually feels.

He guesses Jon wouldn’t want anyone to be a witness to that, he wouldn’t want to see the sympathy on PK’s face so he cuts him off “I got it from here, thanks” he says to PK.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go on take care of the other two. I’ll put him to bed and I’ll come help you, OK?”

PK nods “Thanks man. Jon’s keys are in the holder behind the door. Come over as soon as you can, yeah? I don’t think I can handle them both at once”

“Do you have enough room for Mike?” he asks in an after thought.

“I’ll put him in my bed and I’ll bunk with Carey” Patrick can’t help but smirk. It seems no one is willing to let Mike near one of the other men.

Jon keeps mumbling things in the crook of his neck that he can’t make out and Pat is still a bit angry with him for being so irresponsible that he yanks him inside the house harder than necessary. “God, how could you be so stupid?”

“‘M sorry-oh, God ‘m so sorry” Jon whines brokenly and Pat can feel his anger make way for sympathy again.

“It’s OK” he says soothingly as he helps Jon up the stairs “You work yourself too hard, you need to relax a little or you’ll fall apart”

“’Fucked up. Don’t deserve it” he keeps breaking Pat’s heart and for a second he thinks how selfish he’s being. For a stupid bet he lets these people fall apart when he would have been able to help them with a flick of his wrist. His mother always told him he can’t save everyone but Pat always thought it be better to try than do nothing at all. Something tells him Jon wouldn’t appreciate it.

“You’re great, OK? You have a great kid, a lovely home and your farm is doing well. Don’t be so hard on yourself”

“Can’t” Jon whispers and Pat doesn’t know if it’s an answer or a statement of his current status.

“Just two more steps and we’ll be in your room ok? You’re doing great, so well” the praise doesn’t seem to work on Jon because he hides his face and mutters something incoherent.

He drags Jon the last few feet, struggles a bit with the door handle but manages to take off his shoes and lay him on his bed without causing injures to any of them.

“’Fucked up...everything...so bad...failed” Jon keeps repeating while he curls himself in a ball, hugging his pillow.

Patrick covers him up with the blanket and in a moment of weakness pets Jon’s hair. Jon leans into the touch “Should have said no but...money...need them...” he says something that Pat can’t make out, he’s not sure he says sharp or asap but he gets the gist of Jon’s troubles.

He opens his eyes and looks at Pat “keep you” Patrick doesn’t know if it’s a question where he asks if he can keep Pat or a fact that he can’t afford him but either way the hopelessness in his eyes tears Patrick apart.

“We’ll figure it out, Jonny. Rest now” is all he can offer.

“So good, Pat. You’re so good” Jon says and unlike him, something swells inside Patrick from the praise. “So good” Jon keeps repeating hugging his pillow tighter and there’s a sigh and moan there after a few repeats that make Pat head straight for the door because he doesn’t want to think the implications behind Jon’s groans.

He needs to help PK and wait for Etienne and has zero time for the cold shower required to calm his lower half after Jon’s obscene sounds.

Patrick needs to marry him off soon or he’ll be in a shit lot of trouble.

 

 

Returning from PK’s, Patrick comes face to face with a judging Eric Staal and a smiley...boy?- he definitely doesn’t look like a grown up when you look at his cute face- waiting for him by the front door.

“Eric” he greets coldly.

Eric replies with the same tone “Patrick”

Etienne, who is sitting on the porch floor looking defeated, cheers right up when he spots Patrick. He runs towards him and hugs him tightly. Patrick can’t help the smirk that escapes when he sees the surprise in Eric’s face.

“We come and you no here. Where you go? Where’s papa?” Etienne asks worryingly hugging his legs even tighter.

“Sorry, buddy” Patrick rubs soothing circles in his back “I went to help PK. Papa’s a little sick and he’s sleeping”

Etienne’s eyes widen, lower lip trembling “What wrong?”

“Just a headache; it was cold up in the lake and he forgot his hat” he’s young enough to buy the lie and Pat’s thankful for it.

“He be OK?”

“Of course. He’ll sleep for a while and we’ll give him his medicine and warm soup and he’ll be as good as new, yeah?”

     Etienne nods and perks up. It gives Patrick a chance to address their visitors. He extends his hand to the kid that’s still smiling “I’m Patrick.  Sorry about this. Thank you for bringing Eti home”

The kid smiles wider and deep dimples appear “No problem. I’m Jeff. I’m Eti’s skating teacher”

Pat shakes his hand and smiles warmly at him. Something about Jeff makes it impossible for anyone not to.

“Mister Jeff’s so good” Etienne says with awe “he turn and turn so fast” he makes frantic circles with his fingers and smiles up at Jeff whose ears pink a little.

“He means a twirl” Jeff explains “I used to figure skate”

“Does Eric twirl as well, Eti?” Patrick asks not because he’s an asshole or anything, just curiosity and the hilarity of the picture he imagines in his head.

Eric’s towering over him like he wants to intimidate Pat with their height difference but Pat pays no mind. He focuses on Etienne who giggles “No, silly. Eric come every time with Mister Jeff ‘cause they in love” both men’s cheeks flare up “that mean they wanna hold hands and kiss” Etienne whisper shouts and that makes the flush deeper.

Jeff’s still beaming and Eric rubs the back of his neck awkwardly but when he catches Jeff’s eye he returns the smile. It’s so fond that for a moment Patrick thinks he’s almost like a real boy with feelings and such and not just a judgemental asshole.     

“Nice” is all Pat can think to say “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?” he offers because his mom has raised him with manners.

“Oh, no, thank you” Jeff replies all politely “We have plans. Maybe some other time” he’s so nice and sweet, with his dimples and his blush that Pat’s glad to know Eti is in good hands on the rink. He has a feeling Jeff’s great with the kids.

“Maybe we should stay” Eric says “Help around until Jon feels better” Patrick doesn’t have to be psychic to know that he doesn’t trust him to take care of Etienne.

“We’ve got everything covered but thanks anyway” he’s not thankful at all but he’s not about to tell him to fuck off in front of Etienne. He extends his hand to Jeff once more “It was nice to meet you and thank you again. Feel free to come by anytime” he offers. He doesn’t have the right to, it’s not his house but it’ll piss Eric off and he doesn’t think Jon would actually mind. Jeff seems like a nice kid.

“For sure” Jeff smiles widely and Patrick can’t help but think that, like PK, his cheeks must hurt by the end of the day.

“Eric” is all he offers to the other man before he ushers Etienne inside the house.

Somewhere inside his twelve year old self must be proud he learned not to take anybody’s shit.

 

 

 

Jon wakes up with a throbbing head and a dry mouth. He doesn’t know by experience what taking a sledgehammer in the skull feels like but he’s pretty sure it’s close to what he’s feeling right now. The burden of his guilt is even worse.

It was bad enough that he was such a coward he couldn’t yet even face the possibility of entering a rink again thus trusting Etienne’s skate learning to someone else-and gift another guy the pleasure of that experience- he had to be so irresponsible as to get shitfaced on a day that he had to be there to pick up his boy.

His mind is a little hazy on the details but he can still remember the important parts that make him want to allow himself to drown in his guilt and-deserving-self blame. He really wishes he could blame it all to Mike’s man pain over Jeff, the way he alternated between sniffling and cursing or Carey’s trembling lips over his constant fear of PK wising up and dumping his sorry ass.

 He doesn’t have that option; he doesn’t get to shy away from his responsibilities no matter how hard they are.

Jon hadn’t been prepared for fatherhood; he had been ready to be the cool uncle who played hockey and bought them the best gifts and teamed up with his nephew to make fun of his dad. That was who he was supposed to be. All of a sudden, he became a care taker-a father- and a farmer in the blink of an eye. He didn’t have time to adjust, he didn’t even get the crash course- it was all or nothing all at once. Up until today, he’d say he did a decent job; not perfect but no less than averages either.

He never regretted and second guessed before today. He never huffed or whined or cursed his bad luck. On the contrary, he felt blessed that in their misfortune the best part of them survived and the nurturing honour was bestowed upon him. Well, not so poetically but the bottom line was that he decided himself to be a parent first and a man after. That was three years ago and today it was the first day he ever felt like an utter failure; like he let down Etienne as well as Dave and Vero who trusted him with their boy.

These are the reasons his feet feel like lead as he climbs down the stairs. How can he look that boy in the eye and how can he apologize?

The sight in front of him stops him in his tracks, two steps from the bottom of the stair case. Patrick and Etienne are in the kitchen and they’re mimicking a sword fighting with carrots!

Etienne giggles as he sidesteps Pat and catches him with the tip on his wrist and Pat brings his finger in his lips shushing him. The kitchen is a mess; potatoes and carrot peels abandoned on the counter-half on top of the cooking book-, the pot overflowing a tad on the stove. He doesn’t even care. He’d even offer to vacuum the whole place-which he loathes- if it meant he’d get to see those shinning smiles more often.

He takes the last two steps and approaches “What’s going on here?” he asks more amused than mad.

Both Patrick and Etienne abandon their battle and though Pat looks a bit guilty, Etienne continues to smile as he approaches Jon.   

The boy raises his hands and Jon picks him up immediately even though the motion makes him want to empty the contents of his stomach on the spot “We make you soup” he whispers.

“That’s great, buddy. Thank you” he replies in the same hushed tone “but why are we whispering? Is it a secret?” he looks towards Pat at that, wondering if it was kind of a surprise.

“’Cause you sick and your head hurt. Pat say we use our in- in...”Etienne struggles with the word.

“Inner voice” Patrick supplies and Etienne nods as he smiles up to him.

“Yeah, that”

“That’s very thoughtful of you- and Patrick. Thank you, both” Jon addresses that more to Pat trying to convey his gratitude.

“You better now, papa?” the worry in his voice brings Jon’s guilt right back.

“Much better, baby”

“’M no baby” Etienne protests but looks relieved by the news.

“Right! I’m sorry. You do grow up awfully fast, I forget!”

“Hey, Eti” Patrick speaks up “why don’t you go finish your puzzle till dinner is ready?”

Etienne wiggles himself around in Jon’s arms and he lets him go. They both wait until the boy is gone a little further before they speak.

“Thank you” Jon says again because he can’t stress it enough while Pat asks “How are you?” at the same time.

Jon grimaces “I’ve been better. I’m sorry for today” he offers because his idiotic choices affected more than him. He has a lot of apologies to make he might as well start with Patrick.

“You don’t have to apologize to me” Patrick sounds like he truly means it but that doesn’t ease Jon’s guilt not even a tiny bit.

“I do. You did all this” he gestures towards the stove “and you took care of Eti- you didn’t sign up for this”

“No problem. It was nothing. We had a great time” he says “Sorry about your kitchen. I’ll clean it up” he adds. He turns and reaches for something Jon can’t see.

“No, I’ll do it. You did enough already. I seriously don’t know how to thank you”

“Don’t worry about it”

“No, I- You-“

“Relax, Jonny, you’ll give yourself an aneurism” he says as he turns holding a pill bottle. He pulls a chair out “Sit and take this. Your head must be killing you”.

He fills a glass with water and hands it to Jon, taking the seat beside him “Thank you”

“Better?” Patrick asks after Jon drinks two more glasses of water and all he can do is nod. “You’ll feel even more after you eat something. It’s almost done”

Jon opens his mouth to thank him again but Patrick walks up to the stove to check on their food. He fumbles with the buttons, presumably turning it off. He wipes his hands with the towel and takes a few steps towards the couch “Come on, bud, time to wash our hands and set the table” Patrick says to Etienne.

Jon wills himself to stand but Pat’s hand on his shoulder stops him “You sit down and relax. I got this.”

Jonathan does not have the strength to object. He sits back down and turns his head to watch them head up the stairs. It makes him dizzy and he buries his face in his palms with a groan.

Despite his state, he can’t help but think how nice it feels to have someone to share the load.

The thought makes him groan louder and sink his head further down.

Maybe he should consider marrying after all.

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter to those who celebrate today!  
> and thank you for all your lovely comments :)

 

Monday passes by dragging and uneventful. Boring and unchanging except the fact that Jon seems to hover and cling to Etienne’s side more than usual. He cooks his favourite meal and even allows dessert with actual white sugar. Even after everything, he still looks like a kicked puppy even if he did the kicking himself. If Pat wasn’t already walking on thin ice he’d smack him around the head and tell him to go easy on himself. One mistake makes you human, not a failure.

Jonathan apparently wasn’t taught that lesson because his actions, though heartfelt in their core, are currently being driven by guilt and an inner need for atonement.

On Tuesday two things happen. First, Jon corners him after lunch away from the others and asks him for a favour.

“Hey” he says hesitantly, almost shyly Pat thinks “Can you maybe- would it be OK with you if you watched Eti tonight?” his head is cast down and he’s fidgeting, playing with the hems of his shirt. “He’d be already asleep; you just have to keep an eye on him in case he wakes up and needs something” Patrick doesn’t know if the hesitation has to do with the fact he’s not used to asking for help or if his uncertainty of actually trusting Pat with the wellbeing of his boy.

“Sure, man. Are you going with the boys to the bar to watch the game?” he assumes that’s why he’s asking. Brent invited him as well and he had to come up with a white lie to avoid explaining as to why he doesn’t want to watch a hockey game. Brent made no indication he knew the real reason behind his declination. 

“No, I- I have a date” that is the last thing Pat was expecting and though he did encourage it himself, weirdly enough hearing about it makes his face fall involuntarily. Maybe for the same reason he never really started making matchmaking plans for him...or maybe not. This is not the time for him to process unidentified feelings.

“Oh,em-that’s great man, sure, I’ll watch the little guy, no problem” what problem? Pat doesn’t have a problem. Why should he? It’s fine, absolutely fine if Jon wants to go out to wine and dine someone that could potentially end in his bed and find out what is like for his calloused fingers to catch on skin and leave their prints behind, or how his stubble would scratch and leave red marks all over, not how good his weight would feel covering up a body and giving it pleasure as easily as he strokes his guitar chords and makes them purr either.  Why would Patrick object to that? Why would he care? He doesn’t. There’s absolutely no reason for it. None whatsoever.

 

The second thing that happens is that Brent comes back from the hospital in the afternoon all smiles.

“The tests are back” he shouts as he walks through the door, almost literally, he crashes first on it and bangs it with his shoulder in his rush to get in the house “He’s fine! Totally fine! No swelling, no damage; nothing! All clear!”

Everyone cheers and Pat finds himself smiling along them. “He’s getting released on Friday!” Brent exclaims and everyone stands up and hugs Brent, patting him on the back. Patrick should have been thrilled by the news. He should be walking on cloud nine because Duncan’s early return means he can walk away and back to his old life with his pride intact and a bet won. He can go back home.

The word just doesn’t thrill him anymore. His house is huge and decorated with care, filled with nothing but the best money can buy. Still, it’s not...home-y. Not like this place that’s smaller and worth less in dollars but more in something that you can’t really pay to get.

What a silly thought, Pat chastises himself. Most people would kill to be in Pat’s position and own just half of what he does. That’s what his brain supplies. Someone forgot to mention that to his heart though, that plummets at the news.

He meets Jon’s eyes and there’s a gleam there, his whole face suddenly smooth and line free. He seems to look at Pat intensely, questioning and Pat not wanting to allow the smallest hint of sadness he beams at him, half-faking the fact that he’s glad this is all going to be over soon.

Jon’s jaw tightens and turns his head away. Pat should have known. He’s not needed any more, there’s no reason for small courtesies.

 

 

 

Pat is clean and fresh and a little bored. He is used to Jon taking the first shower but for some reason he decided to spend way more time in the fields than usual. It’s not like he’s not working too long as it is. Even when he dismisses everyone else, he still finds things to do or if he doesn’t he just likes to sit and watch around.

Patrick thinks it’s his way of assessing their day’s work and making plans for the one that follows. Jon doesn’t have a punch card; when he’s not on the field he’s in the greenhouse or the barn or in a meeting with Brent and Carey. Even at home he alternates between cooking, spending quality time with Etienne and burying himself in paperwork. Pat finds himself wanting to join him on moments like that, offer a few alternatives on how to ease things with the usage of a program or an app, suggest a more meticulous system that would potentially be time saving.

He can maybe pass the new project he has in mind as a fleeting idea that has just occurred to him but as a theory is plain useless. It needs free time they do not have, funds and personnel which Jon may not be able to afford but Patrick certainly is, though he is unable, and unwilling, to reveal that fact at this time.

While Pat is lost in his thoughts and Jon is still upstairs presumably getting ready there’s a knock at the door. It startles him because the boys are all gone and he’s not used to unannounced guests. He walks up to it and opens.

He comes face to face with a man, somewhere around 6 ft with shoulder length light brown hair slicked back and mossy green eyes. He smiles shyly and shifts his weight from foot to foot “Hi. I’m here for Jonathan?” he phrases it as a question and Pat’s first instinct is to ask him if he’s sure because he doesn’t sound much like it.

He refrains himself and opens the door wider inviting him in with a gesture “I’m Patrick” it’s the only thing he offers.

“I’m Ryan- his date” he doesn’t offer his hand probably because he’s too busy burying both of them in his jeans pockets. He seems nervous and Pat wonders if he has something to hide. It’s the first thing cops look for in a suspect. The specificity of his intentions rubs him the wrong way as well. It’s not like Patrick asked, he very well could have not cared; which he doesn’t, by the way.

Jon must have heard the door because he’s climbing down the stairs lazily, like he’s not in a hurry at all and Patrick has a rom-com moment, breath catching and all. He’s wearing dark blue jeans, a light blue shirt and a dark blue long sleeved v neck sweater that clinks to his body like a second skin. The top buttons on his shirt are undone leaving the triangle between his collarbones exposed, inviting, calling out to Pat to bite it and leave his mark.

Pat doesn’t understand how it ever crossed his mind that this man would even need a matchmaker. What he needs is a bodyguard and Pat is ready to offer himself up for the position. He makes a mental note to pat himself in the back later for not going through his matchmaking plans; although Jon seems to be doing great in that department judging by the guy that stands silently beside him. Maybe he shouldn’t have broached that subject at all. He dismisses the pat and the back and thinks he has to go with a smack upside the head.

“You look good” Pat manages to say after having to clear his throat a couple of times.

Jon gives him a half smile “Thanks”

“Hi” Ryan chimes in and Pat wants to punch him because they were clearly having a moment that he rudely interrupted.

“Hey, Ryan” Jon says startled like he was not expecting him to be there but not totally put off seeing him “I thought we were meeting at the restaurant”

“Yeah, I-“ his cheeks pink a little and Patrick wants to huff because he knows that trick, look all cute and vulnerable to earn good graces- asshole “I finished work early and I thought- I thought maybe you’d be too tired to drive all the way to town” Way to look eager and desperate-Patrick’s tongue would spit venom if he let it roam free.

“That’s so thoughtful, thank you” Jon says sincerely but Pat doesn’t buy it. He probably wants to corner Jon, have him dependent on him for a ride back.

“Here-“Jon hands Pat a baby monitor “I’ve charged it and turned it on. You can hear if Eti wakes up but maybe you can check once in a while as well. I just did so maybe in an hour?”

“A baby monitor?” Ryan asks confused “I thought your son was three”

“Three and a half” Patrick supplies harshly. It’s not his fault. If this guy wants to date Jonny he at least has to get the important facts straight. Where did Jon even find this person?

Ryan doesn’t comment, neither does Jon; he takes his jacket and Ryan follows him suit to the door “I won’t be long” Jon turns and says to Pat “I have my cell phone on, call me if you need anything, yeah?”

Patrick nods and goes to close the door behind them when he hears Ryan whisper “Is he the babysitter?”

Patrick slums the door - hard.

 

 

Patrick absolutely does not spend the evening pacing around the living room thinking that he should have been the one out with Jon. He would most definitely have been a better date than this random guy who appeared out of nowhere and can’t even get Etienne’s age right. What if they yell at each other when they work and Jon probably spends half the day wanting to fire him while Pat spends the rest thinking of quitting? They still work. They still come home and cook dinner, do the dishes, play with Eti and veg out on the couch. They have a routine that their fights just spice up not break.

But Pat does not think any of that.

He definitely does not curl in the porch swing holding Ace and feeding him lettuce leaves whining about how irresponsible it is to have a date on a working night. And he does not find himself trying to restore damaged flowers in the rain because Ace got away from him and started digging holes.

He just thought that the Zinnias and Daffodils patches looked a little withered and needed attention. He was already wet from giving Ace a bath -because the bunny stank not because it was covered in dirt of course- so he found it fitting to continue working before cleaning himself up as well.

He holds the monitor close to protect it from the rain and that’s why the trowel hits the soil with such harsh and uncoordinated blows not because Patrick’s seething and puffing wondering in which part of their date Jon and Ryan are exactly nor the fact that though his watch clearly indicates it’s almost midnight Jonathan hasn’t returned home yet.

He should be here; he should be here asking about Patrick’s plans, wondering if he’s going to leave now that Duncan is coming back or if he’ll be willing to stick around for at least a little while more. He should be here so Patrick can tell him that he settled his mind and he wants to stay if Jonny will have him. He should be here so Pat can ask him for a few days leeway to wrap up his affairs and a confirmation that the door will be open for him when he returns, willing to take a chance on them and give whatever this is between them a try. Because Patrick is; he’s willing to tear down the wall around his heart the rest of the way-he’s not sure how or when but he’s positive Jon has been picking on it absentmindedly for a while now and has chipped around the edges-and leave it open for him to wander around. He’s ready to throw all caution into the wind and trust Jon enough not to walk all over it.

Jon should be here even if he says none of that. He should be here so Patrick can tell him that he’ll get what Jon has to offer, even if that is just a few days-shy of a week because somewhere along the way Jon, Etienne and the farm started feeling more of a home than his house back in Buffalo ever did and that he would rather spend his evenings building Lego house with Etienne and curl up on the couch with Jon, head tucked safely under his arm, than party his nights away in meaningless and often nameless embraces that get cold even before he leaves them; that he doesn’t care if it’s hasted and impulsive, sudden or foolish because for some inexplicable reason it just feels right.

Jon should be here so Patrick can say something stupid like that he can be Jon’s hope if Jon can be his promise in return, that they can be dreamers together even if that makes them fools.

He regrets ever suggesting Jon going on a date. He was trying to apply the same principle in this situation like he did with all his friends; but Jon wasn’t his friend, Patrick’s feelings towards him were anything but friendly. That’s what he was fighting when he made the suggestion or when he thought that fixing him up with someone would be a grand idea but his brilliant plans for once backfired and the results hit him straight in the face. Because Patrick is tired of fighting and keeping guard all of the time, it’s exhausting and lonely and leaves him weary and unfilled.

Maybe his mother was right; maybe you can’t escape romantic feelings by the sheer force of your will alone. She warned him once that it’ll hit him one day out of the blue and whatever schemes his brilliance may come up with will still be unable to stop the inevitable. Patrick guesses the time has come and denying the possibility for so long, the moment caught him unprepared and lacking of the right tools to handle it. That doesn’t mean he won’t fight for it now. He just hopes it’s not too late.

A car stops in the driveway and Patrick feels the burden pressing his heart lift. He exhales relief and waits. Then he waits a minute longer and a minute after that. The seconds pass agonizingly slow and Jonny is still not there greeting him, asking him what the fuck he is doing outside in the rain. How long does it take to say goodbye anyway? Unless...

No, Patrick does not want to think they end their date making out on this guy’s car. Just because he was a little slow on the uptake it doesn’t mean that anyone can waltz in and arrogate something that Patrick had laid claim on.

It’s irrational, he knows, but for the first time he feels jealousy sipping out of his every pore, tangled with his own guilt and fear. He’d heard of it; the anger that bubbles and overwhelms you, blinding you to any rational thought but he had always thought himself lucky he hadn’t experienced it. Instead of blocking or dismissing it, he lets himself get lost in the feeling. He already decided it’s all or nothing and he doesn’t intent to miss any aspect of his newfound state.

“What are you doing out here?” Jon asks from somewhere behind him, in a way it shows he’s concerned about Pat’s mental health. He can fill a volume on the different ways he has heard a variation of ‘ _have you lost your mind?_ ’ throughout the years.

He turns and sees Jon standing there, jacket over his head shielding himself from the rain, looking at Pat through wide eyes. “Gardening” his voice is flat and his answer short because he can’t trust himself not asking him in return what the hell was he doing out there for a total sum of one hundred and two seconds. It’s not like it’s Jon’s fault Patrick had his big revelation just when he decided to move forward, a part of his brain supplies. The other half that has been crisped by countless romantic comedies and paperback novels wants to accuse him of jumping ship, of not wanting it enough, or believed in it as strongly because otherwise he would have held on a little longer. Like he said...crisped.

Jon raises his eyebrow “Did Ace get away from you again?”

Patrick huffs and digs the trowel harder in the soil “Come inside, you’ll catch your death. We’ll fix it up tomorrow”

Patrick doesn’t stand up “Had a good time?” he asks through greeted teeth. He tried hard not to ask but he found himself unable not to.

“Yes” Patrick curses Jon’s ability to not display any emotion in his voice when he chooses to.

“Did you kiss him?” the question comes out harsh, his jaw clenched and his heart hammering in his chest afraid of the answer. He doesn’t want to know if Ryan kissed Jon; the important thing is if Jon instigated the action himself.

“Isn’t that what people do on dates?” that’s not exactly an answer and in any case Patrick wouldn’t know; he doesn’t date.

Patrick looks up and there’s something on Jon’s face he can’t decipher. He just feels his questioning gaze. Jon’s trying to assess his behaviour he guesses. “I wouldn’t know” he says honestly.

Jon’s eyes widen for a brief second but he schools his features immediately “That’s a pity. Don’t worry though, you’ll get your chance” it feels like if they were closer Jon would have patted him on the back encouragingly like you do to a child that rushes to grow up too fast too soon.

He drops the trowel and clips the baby monitor in his back pocket. He struts towards Jon, eyes flaring “Are you making fun of me?”

“Now, why would I be doing that?” Patrick thinks he’s mocking him.

He closes the space between them “You insufferable, dumb f-“he starts on a string of curses but Jon beats him to it.

“Are you jealous, Pat?” Jon breathes right on his face, hot and heavy; they’re so close that if Pat were to go on his tiptoes and tilt his head upright their lips would lock.

And so he does; he lifts his head and drops his shields. His eyes are glinting with unshed tears and for once he doesn’t hate himself for letting someone see it “Yes” he admits.

“Good” is all Jon says and lowers his head the last inch Patrick had miscalculated. He doesn’t kiss him like Patrick wishes; he just stands there, lips nanometres away from each other.

“Does he kiss better than me?” any shed of pride has apparently left him.

“I wouldn’t know” Jon answers flatly, his features betraying nothing, not that Patrick would be able to decipher even if they were any. His eyes are starting to cross and his neck to twinge.

“You’ve kissed me before” he states the obvious, probing and twisting for an answer.

“That I did”

Patrick grunts “It’s not the time to be mysterious, asshole. I asked you a question.”

“I know” all of Jon’s answers are spoken directly over his lips and Patrick tries very hard to control the shivers that causes.

“Well?” he insists.

“Well, what?” he is truly an insufferable asshole.

“Aren’t you gonna answer?”

“I already did. I said I didn’t know” technically he did but Patrick is a fan of specificity.

“How is that possible?”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t, because oh, I don’t know- maybe because I haven’t kissed _him_?” Jon stresses his every word, speaking slowly and clearly as if talking to a child.

“Oh” it’s the only thing he finds to say.

“Yeah, oh”

“Why not?” he half wonders half wants the validation.

“Because all the while I was with him I wished it was you! Is that what you want to hear?”

It wasn’t; not until it left Jon’s lips and now it seems that’s what he’s been expecting all along. “You don’t believe in hopes and wishes. You think it’s for the fools and the dreamers”

“They are”

“Then what does that make you?”

Jon sighs deeply; Patrick feels the vibrations all over his body “A bit of both, I suppose”

Patrick sneaks his hand between them and grabs him by the hem of his jacket, tugging, making it fall off Jon’s head. They’re now both standing in the rain unsheltered “Jonny” he whimpers.

“Pat” Jon replies and it’s deep and hoarse but he doesn’t give an inch more.

Pat tags harder “Jonny-don’t...”

“Don’t- what Pat? What shouldn’t I do?” although he seems to be keeping his cool there’s a catch in his voice and Patrick understands that he’s not unaffected either.

“Don’t say no” he sighs; the truth is Patrick is no longer in control. He always thought if he would hold the reigns then he could navigate anything his way. Jon proved him wrong. He doesn’t need Pat to guide him; if Pat is lucky enough he’d let him ride by his side for the long haul.

The most important truth is that Pat doesn’t need him either. He can walk away now, return to his old life with his bet won and pride intact and life would go on as usual. He’ll find a way to hide away these newfound feelings and if he’s lucky enough he’ll manage to mend the chips and close the hole right back up.

The truth is- Patrick is tired of hiding away from life. He wants to live this, damn the consequences, as long as Jon’s willing to walk down that path with him. They both have enough at stake but by a quick calculation Pat’s realised the gain would outweigh the loss if they succeed.

Somewhere between his thoughts and contemplation Jon made up his mind because he raises his hand and buries it into Pat’s drenched hair. He doesn’t grip or tug it; the weight of his fingers just anchors Patrick when he wasn’t even aware he was drifting.

 A few drops hit Patrick’s cheeks as Jon lowers his head. It’s stupid because it’s been pouring all evening and still Pat can tell that those little droplets come from Jon’s soaked hair. He opens his mouth, sighing. The sound does not leave his lips; Jon captures it with his own. Patrick wastes no time, opening up more and sliding his tongue in search of his.

He wraps his arms around Jon’s neck and tries to find a way to get closer even, though there’s no space left between them. He lifts on his tip toes and tilts his head a tad, trying to accommodate Jon and deepen the kiss.

Jon’s other hand, the one that isn’t currently fisting his curls, wraps around Pat’s waist. Patrick can’t actually qualify this as a kiss. It’s more of a feast. They devour each other with such hunger he wouldn’t imagine possible and comes out of nowhere.

It wasn’t unadulterated lust that sprang from deep inside him these past couple of weeks; not that he wasn’t insanely attracted to Jon, but unidentified feelings were prominent instead of a craving of the flesh Pat have known before.

They pull away breathless, chests heaving, clothes saturated and clinging uncomfortable to their bodies, lashes dripping but they both have dopey smiles on their faces and dark dilated pupils. Patrick hides his face in the crook of Jon’s neck and takes a deep breath. Everything smells of rain, damp soil and something uniquely Jonathan.

Jon nuzzles the side of his head “Come on, let’s go inside” he urges but makes no move to detach himself from Pat.

“Don’t wanna” Pat says petulantly. He’s afraid to step away and dissolve this dream he has built.

Jon chuckles and Patrick doesn’t just hear it, he feels its vibration as well “We really are gonna catch our death if we stay here longer” he tightens his hold on Pat’s waist though, like he’s no more ready to let him go than Pat is “I need to check on Eti, too” he adds but still no movement.

“I got the monitor in my back pocket” Patrick supplies. He’s not irresponsible even half out of his mind.

“Do you think it still works?” he sounds amused not worried and it takes Patrick a moment to realise that he trusts Patrick enough to not panic for the well being of his child. It warms his insides even though the breeze makes him shiver.

As in cue, there’s rustling sounds coming off of somewhere behind Pat’s back and a bray he thinks is a snore. It comes off as a light grunt he muses; Eti is too cute to associate with as brash a sound as conventional snoring.

“There’s my answer” Jon’s carefree disposition is catching and Patrick hides a smile on the same spot he’s tucked himself.

Slowly he untangles himself from there and grins up at Jonathan “Wanna come in for a night cap?” he leers and Jon rolls his eyes all playful and teasing.

“Does that line work for you?” he tries to sound put off and judging but the corners of his lips tug upwards and it gives him away.

“It hasn’t failed me in the past” Jon’s back stiffens at that and his jaw clenches. It gives Pat a great satisfaction.

“Jealous, Jonny?” he’s playing with fire but he owes Jon one.

“Yes” the admission is spiting and biting.

Patrick pours all his delight in a smirk “Good”

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was informed that the previous title was from a poem about anti-black racism in the US thus making my use of it offensive.  
> Current title is borrowed from 'Masquerade/Why so silent' from Phantom Of the Opera. I hope this will suffice & won't cause any misconception about the story and my intentions.
> 
> As always, thank you for your lovely comments.

 

Jon had let his impulses lead him twice this past few days. He still regrets the getting drunk part and his guilt hasn’t really subsided but he can’t find himself having second thoughts about his kiss with Patrick. It’s completely selfish and the first time since forever he allows himself to, briefly, be a man first. He knows it’s dangerous, not only for him- he’s a grown man and has handled worst things than getting his heart broken after all- but mainly for Etienne. That’s his only hesitation, how it could potentially damage him and he would have only himself to blame; no misfortune, no fate or God. Etienne has lost too many people already; he thinks one more would break him.  On the other hand, he’s already formed a bond with Patrick that baffles Jon; not that Etienne is a closed off boy or anything, quite the opposite, he just can’t figure out what it is exactly that makes the boy so open to him.

Patrick, weirdly enough, has a natural charm that goes beyond the douche-y smile that’s plastered all over the magazines. He was pleasantly surprised when he discovered that the real him had very little in common with his public persona. Maybe it was due to his recent economical disaster or maybe the whole thing was a facade for the cameras, or part of it. Regardless, Jon is glad that the news of his bankruptcy hasn’t hit yet. It’s quite possible Pat was right and since he’s been absent from the public eye he’s not news worthy anymore or at least for a while.

Jon worries about that too; about how it’ll affect Patrick when it becomes public knowledge. Maybe staying with them in the farm will soften the blow. He considered offering refugee to his family as well but unfortunately he doesn’t have the means necessary.

Jon knows what it feels like to be in the spotlight. First the crash, then his crashed hockey chances they all blended together and made him paper material for a while. It was one of the reasons he decided to retreat in this farm, giving a chance to Etienne to grow up in a more stable environment.

None of Jon’s thoughts matter though, if he’s the only one invested; moot point if Patrick decides to go in the end, if last night was nothing more than a fleeting moment of lost control. He can picture clear as day Pat’s giddy face when Brent informed them of Duncan’s impending return. At that moment the answer to all his unasked questions were carved in Pat’s eyes; Patrick was going to leave.

That seems like a lifetime away now and all that springs from inside him are a sense of flippancy and a tiny spark of hope. He walks around the greenhouse with a dopey smile he makes no attempt to hide. Not that there’s anyone but Pat around. The rain still holds so there’s not much they can do outside. Carey gets to concentrate on his horse and PK all but volunteered to manage the barn and the coop so he gave Brent a much needed day off. Splitting his hours between farm and hospital has taken a toll on him. Though he seemed oddly rejuvenated from the news of Duncan’s return alone, Jon knows that that is not enough on its own.

Patrick works a few feet away from him and even though he doesn’t turn to face him he knows when his eyes wander his way. They’ve been dancing around each other the whole morning, their unresolved sexual tension hanging between them like a magnetic field. They gravitate towards it while still trying to fight the urge. They stand back cautiously, clinging on to their work because they have responsibilities that cannot be put aside just for their need to quench their thirst.

He knows they both craved a release last night, one that would involve more than their own fists and muffled groans against their pillows but it was neither the time nor the place for what they had in mind with a sleeping Etienne upstairs. There was an urgency there but he would rather they took their time and enjoyed themselves than have a quick tangle. He has dreamed enough of it to know that when it happens he wants to be able to hear every little sound that would come out of Patrick’s luscious lips. He wants to take his time and leave Patrick a quivering mess; an extra incentive in his campaign to convince him to stay.  

He had momentarily thought he might have missed his one shot at it but Patrick’s hesitant yet hopeful smile that morning informed Jon that there was no regret there whatsoever and the wink that followed Jon’s identical simper was a promise of great things to come. Before diving head first though, Jon needs to ask; ask Patrick to take a leap of faith and abandon his departure plans in exchange for a chance of a life there; to reinvent their relationship and see it under a new light, one that goes beyond employer and temporary employee (one that he wouldn’t be able to afford for much longer anyway even with Sharp paying his expenses) and borders that of equal partners.

He knows he gets ahead of himself that this is a new and dangerous territory on top of his recent setbacks, that he may be juggling more than he can handle, but he can’t settle for less under the circumstances. He hasn’t shied away from a challenge that life has thrown his way yet and he’s a firm believer that things happen for a reason, so he decides to take the chance himself because somewhere inside him this feels incredibly right.

All of a sudden, he feels body heat radiating from somewhere close behind, followed by two strong arms that wrap around his waist. Patrick’s appearance might fool many but he’s actually all hard, toned muscles that make Jon feel he can share the lift he’s been carrying along for so long; that he can lean on him and he won’t break under the weight. He’s willing to be that for him in return; a hand to hold, a shoulder to lie on, the other half of a pillar that holds everything together; a partner.

“Can we take a break, Jonny?” Pat’s breath on his neck is warm but it still makes him quiver “Please?” it’s not actually a question, it’s teasing, low, rumbled and husky and Jon maybe a patient man but he is not made of stone. He’s all flesh and bone and the way Pat’s scrapping his teeth along his neck tendon melts whatever protest tried to rise in his lips. He has better things to do with them anyway. Patrick caved first so his self control and restrain deserve a gold star.

He shifts and Pat withdraws his hands to give him room to turn “You’re proving to be a very ineffective helper” he tries to sound scolding but fails miserably. He’s glad Patrick took the step.

Patrick scowls and rakes his eyes all over Jon’s body. “I beg to differ” he says as he eyes Jon’s crotch. They both know there’s not a chance he’s hard yet but he’s definitely interested.

“Oh, you’ll be begging all right” it’s so juvenile and silly but Patrick doesn’t seem to mind if the way his eyelids hood is anything to go by.

Jon doesn’t wait for Pat to come up with a witty reply; he fists his T-shirt and tugs him closer smashing their lips together. It’s a little rushed and uncoordinated and their teeth clink together but he tangles his fingers in Pat’s hair and positions his head the way he wants it. Pat’s pliant under his hand, humming against his lips, mostly because he wants to, Jon knows. He can be quite a challenge when he chooses to, he even likes it that way sometimes but he seems to enjoy Jon’s fingers there just as much as Jon himself does, so really it’s a win-win situation. A whimper escapes and it takes him a second to realize it came out of his own mouth. The things Patrick does to him-

The kiss grows heated, tongues tangling and teeth joining in the dance and before he realises it, Patrick shoves him hard against the nearer surface. Jon groans the moment his back hits the glass and Pat runs his tongue over his bottom lip as if to sooth the blow. Jon imagines it tracing the bumps in his spine and his whole body tinkles.

“Wanna blow you” Pat informs him and Jon’s breath hitches.

“Yeah” he stutters his agreement because Pat’s mouth has been starring in his fantasies for days.

Patrick smirks with satisfaction and bites once hard right below Jon’s ear. It seems to be his favourite spot, Jon can’t understand why but he doesn’t object either, not with the way his body is responding to the action. Patrick wastes no time; he sinks on his knees and the image alone is enough to be the death of him; eyes bright, lips full and a jaw that drops to accommodate him- a sure killer.

He makes quick progress unzipping Jon’s jeans and he tags them down along with his underwear. Jon cants his hips forward to accommodate him and braces himself for the feeling of being enveloped in Pat’s hot, wet mouth, trying to not duel on how exactly he obtained those skills.

The feeling he’s expecting never comes; instead Pat just stays crouched down looking; more like examining to be precise. “What are you doing?” he asks a bit puzzled and a lot frustrated.

“Getting acquainted. Don’t you know it’s bad etiquette to kiss without being properly introduced?”

Jon lets out a sound he hopes conveys his bafflement “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Patrick clicks his tongue “Such foul language for a proper Canadian boy” he chastises but lifts his hand and grips Jon’s dick nonetheless and any protest dies well before even thought “It’s kind of hot” he adds winking up at him. Yep, Jon is a goner.

The grip is loose enough and too dry to have any meaningful outcome but Pat’s tongue that’s peeking out of his mouth and wetting his bottom lip suggests things are going to get interesting.

“Do we need a condom?” Pat asks like an afterthought and Jon shakes his head “I’m clean- it’s...been a while” he adds half embarrassed, half thankful because he had abandon the habit of carrying a condom around a while back; it’s not like he had need of it recently.

Pat nods “I’m clean, too” he reassures Jon. He figures that someone who asks for a condom to give a blowjob wouldn’t take a risk with either of their health.

He still doesn’t take him into his mouth, he just licks a lazy stripe from root to tip and back down again, almost experimentally. He repeats the motion again and again, determined to taste every inch, coat it with saliva a small portion at a time and Jon’s about to lose his mind and not the good way either.

“Pat” he whines and huffs impatiently.  “Come on” he urges; he’s not ready to give in and plead.

Thankfully for his ego he doesn’t have to because Patrick takes the head in his mouth and sucks lightly. He’s still teasing, swirling his tongue around it and ever so lightly scrapping his teeth but it’s enough for Jonny to start hardening further.

Pat’s mouth is unbelievably hot in contrast to the cool air around them and the light suction makes Jon’s breath take intervals.

Pat pulls off again, dipping his tongue into the slit and flicking it twice “Come on” he repeats.

Patrick smirks up at him “What’s the magic word?”

“Fuck you” he scolds.

Patrick chuckles “You can do that later” he states and Jon’s whole body quakes with anticipation.

He finally gives in “Please” he rasps; he figures retreating now doesn’t make him a looser considering the outcome and he’s proven right as Pat just dives in and starts an assault of flicks and swirls and something Jon doesn’t have a name for where everything is slick and sloppy and hot and cause a buzzing to his ears.

Patrick hollows his cheeks and sucks hard and Jon’s knees buckle, making him steady himself with a hand against the glass to keep upright “Fuck, Pat! Your mouth... God, your fucking mouth” he doesn’t know what obscenities he’s spewing because he thinks he just died and went to heaven and words are not necessary in the Holy Kingdom. “Fuck, so good...I knew it. Fucking dreamed about it. So fucking hot...”

Pat sounds as turned on as Jon is and moans around him. The vibrations causing a new kind of thrill for Jonathan, he can’t help but raise his hand and trace the outline of his dick against Patrick’s cheek “Fuck...Shit...Oh, God- I- _Pat_ ” he spits out, totally lost in the sensation which makes Pat suck harder and moan louder.

Jon’s fingers find their way to the back of Pat’s head and make a place for themselves there as Pat takes his away from Jon’s dick and swallows him a little further down. He pushes his head further into Jon’s hand, inviting him to tighten his grip and allowing him permission to guide him.

Jon doesn’t even try to bite back the moan. He lets it roam free and follows it with a grunt. “Fuck, you’ll be the death of me”. He wishes he could release control and fuck Pat’s mouth but there would be no way to explain the effects it’ll have on his voice and Jon’s not ready for that announcement yet; not when everything is still up in the air.

He feels Pat’s lips stretch in a smirk around his dick, the smug asshole, but Jon can’t be bothered because he’s starting to feel that tag low in his belly and tightens his hold on Pat’s hair even more, probably enough to hurt if the way his own fingernails feel against his palm is anything to go by. He’s torn between keeping him there and pulling him away. He decides to let the choice up to Patrick, as it should be “Close, Pat...I’m close” he barely recognises his own voice, it’s surreal like an out of body experience.

Pat opens his eyes and looks up at him, eyes glassy like he’s been wandering around in dream land himself and trying to regain consciousness; he gives way inch by inch, slowly, until there’s only the tip of Jon’s dick in his mouth then does this wicked thing with his tongue, which he still has no name for, that makes Jon see white and abandon any control and logic.  He only fights the urge to close his eyes because he doesn’t want to miss one moment of this.

He comes with a groan that turns into a sputter as Patrick takes him inside deeper again swallowing everything he has to offer. “Jesus fucking Christ, Pat!”

Pat pulls away with a grin and runs his tongue all over his lips, catching the remaining droplets. He, on the other hand, can do nothing but groan again, make a half attempt to catch his breath and allow the blood to return in his brain.

When he somewhat manages that, he yanks him up and devours his mouth, tasting the bitter saltiness of himself along with the sweetness of Pat’s mouth. It’s open mouthed and filthy and all it does is making him crave more.

 When they pull away Pat’s lips are red and swollen and Jon can’t fight the urge to dip down again and catch that full bottom lip between his teeth. He continues to use his teeth, leaving a bite on Pat’s jaw, then the side of his neck which he alternates between nips and flicks of his tongue to taste a different saltiness this time. He gives a last bite, hollowing his cheeks and sucking enough to leave a mark and makes his way up to Pat’s ear lobe “What do you want?” he asks tugging the lobe with his teeth, loving the way Pat’s rugged breath caresses his own neck and his lips ghost over that mole that he’s obsessed with.

Pat buries his moan between Jon’s clavicles, clearly tired from lifting himself up to reach Jon’s height “Just your hand, I’m too far gone” he admits and it startles Jon, the way he says it unashamedly and openly.

He reaches between them to undo Pat’s fly to find it already open. He raises an eyebrow “What? The zipper was digging in my dick”

Jon chuckles to keep himself from moaning again because Patrick getting excited by giving a blowjob...yeah, definitely hot.

 He lifts up his hand to wet it and Pat chases it to give a lick himself. Jon doesn’t burry the groan this time. He lets it free right before he gives Pat another biting kiss “ _The death of me_ ” he exclaims and fists Pat’s dick.

There are no games, no teasing whatsoever. He starts pumping hard and fast like the way he does it to himself when he’s in a hurry. Patrick’s both hands grab him by the cheeks, pulling him down for a kiss. Not much of one since he’s panting hard; just a suck and a nip on his lip. An illusion really just for the feeling of closeness.

He bows his head enough for their foreheads to touch and angles it in a way he can watch the way the head of Pat’s dick appears and disappears in his fist. The evidence of Pat’s impending orgasm is in the form of sticky wetness which Jon gathers with his thumb and smears it around. Patrick’s breath catches and Jon repeats the motion, a ruthless circle of pumping and smearing, harder and faster that makes Patrick cling to Jon harder as well.

On the upstroke Jon’s phone rings, making Patrick groan his frustration and lay his head on Jon’s chest “Ignore it” Jon says because Pat is so close Jon himself can practically taste it and he wants to give this to Pat.

He goes faster still and urges him on “Come on, babe” he thinks he can get away with it between rings.

Pat’s bucking his hips, chasing Jon’s hand. Jonathan lets him fuck his fist, making sure to hold him close and tight with his left hand “Yeah, babe, that’s it...take it...come on, take what you need”

“Jonny” Pat whines, due to either his words or the distraction of the ringing. Jon’s not sure.

 “Shhh...” he coos “You’re almost there, babe. Almost there...You’re doing so well. So well...” something there makes Patrick melt. Jon speculates it’s the praise and makes a mental note to confirm his suspicion at a later time “Come on...do it... _cum_ ”

   Patrick does with a tremble, silently, letting himself go limp in his arms, and Jon doesn’t know if that’s the way he usually comes or it’s because he’s currently biting down hard on Jon’s collarbone right where his buttons are undone.

He holds him steady and close until his breath returns to normal. Pat lifts his head, blinks and smiles at him. “Hi” he says goofily.

Jon bites the corner of his bottom lip to prevent himself from embarrassment due to the fondness that threatens to escape and be written all over his face “Hi” he returns because how can he not to?

Pat cranes his neck silently asking for a kiss and Jon is more than happy to oblige.

His phone chimes up again interrupting them once more and Jon’s tempted to throw the damn thing away “Go on, answer it. Duty calls” Patrick says defeated but he still steals one more quick kiss before tagging his dick inside his pants.

The number is unknown and that peaks his curiosity. He hurriedly wipes his hand on his jeans, he can be horrified about it later, and answers it.   “Hello? Yes this is he. What?” he’s pretty sure he’s white as a sheet judging by Pat’s worried look. He grips the phone tighter, enough to crash it maybe “Which...which hospital? No, I understand. I’ll be right there. Thank you” it’s all he can manage before hanging up and bracing himself on the nearer surface.

The first thing that overflows is worry, disbelief and guilt all mashed but swallows it down quickly because there’s an urgent need to process the information “Etienne fell and hit his head, or so they think. He is unconscious. I have to...I have to go to the hospital” voicing it is the first step of acceptance.

“Jonny” is all Patrick masters but conveys so much nonetheless; sorrow-that’s what it radiates.

“I- I...Pat” Patrick doesn’t need words apparently because he’s by his side giving him a crushing hug. He doesn’t do this. He doesn’t allow people to see him vulnerable, he doesn’t seek comfort but this is different- this is Etienne’s life.

“It’s gonna be OK, Jonny. Everything’s gonna be OK” he tries to reassure but Jon doesn’t know if it’s for his benefit or Pat’s own or both at once. The wetness he feels doesn’t know if it comes from him or Pat either. He tries to appear calm but Jon feels the quiver.

“I can’t lose him, Pat. Not him, too. _Not him_. I’m gonna...” flashes of Dave and Vero bloodied pass before his eyes, the wailing of baby Eti still on his ears; that feeling of uselessness overwhelms him again and makes him freeze.

“Stop! We’re not losing him, you hear me? Nothing’s gonna happen to him” Jon wants so badly to believe him “Come on, let’s go”

He lets himself get ushered away “Are you good to drive?” Pat asks and Jon’s not sure but Patrick’s eyes are welling with unshed tears, trying to put on a brave face for him so Jonny must be brave for all of them in return.

He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. His feelings do not matter; Etienne is the only thing that does “I’m good. Let’s go”

 

 

The drive to the hospital seems to take forever. He needs to be calm and focused but random things go through his head. Etienne’s first smile, his very first step, the first time he called him papa and every time he clung to him afraid he might lose him. Did Jon himself cling back as hard? Did he tell him enough times he was not going to leave? Did he show him enough how much he loved him? Was he the kind of father that kid deserved? Recent actions seem to point to no.

People often accused him of not having feelings or at least not being willing to show any and he can’t help but wonder if Etienne truly knows how lost Jon would have been if he wasn’t in his life, how lucky he had been in his misfortune to be granted such a precious gift. One he proved himself unworthy of.

Where did he go wrong? What could he have done to prevent this? Should he have kept him home where he could watch him and be certain of his safety? Should he not have let him play in the jungle gym that often?   Did he push him towards sporting activities because he himself was unable to perform any longer? Or is this some kind of punishment for his recent behaviour?

Somewhere between Duncan’s accident and today, Jon has found himself often enough distracted with thoughts and needs that haven’t crossed his mind in years. Had he been judged and found wanting? And why does his boy have to pay the price of his own inadequacy?

Pat’s shaking hand on his thigh is both a comfort and a burden. It’s a shimmer of another kind of hope and a testament to the fact that his focus had swayed lately. The fact that Patrick isn’t unaffected by this ordeal, that he seems to feel genuine concern and even anguish, fills him both with a sense of solidarity and unwarranted anger.

His mind is such a mess right now, hanging on every little detail, relevant or not. Maybe it’s its way of copping, of making sure Jon doesn’t go completely mad but the only success it has is making Jon maladminister facts and emotions.

“He asked me to stay” Pat says out of the blue, startling him “the day he told you to get married- he asked me to stay and I told him I couldn’t”

Jon doesn’t know what to do with this information “You never asked” he adds.

“I knew you’d leave” he spits out harshly, jaw clenched.

“How could you know? You didn’t bother to ask me”

“I saw the answer written all over your face yesterday” he doesn’t know what he’s being accused of and at a time like this.

Patrick doesn’t have anything to reply to that and Jon gets a sense of a twisted satisfaction because he is right.

 “I changed my mind” Pat states and Jon is probably about to get dumped as well before he even gets deeply involved. That’s just his luck, he figures. Maybe it’s for the better. He needs to go back to being a dedicated father instead of pining after an unattainable dream. “I want to stay” Patrick continues “if you’ll have me”

Jon swallows hard “Pat, I- this is not the time-“

“No, this is the best time. I want to stay in the farm with you and Etienne. I want to go into that hospital and be able to promise him that I’ll be right here when he gets back home and maybe somewhere down the road I’ll be able to agree to be his dad. I need to know I can do that, Jonny. I- I just need to-“

Jon doesn’t have to turn his head to see that Pat is crying. He envies him for it. He wishes he could let his tears fall freely. “Are you saying this because- do you think he won’t-“Jon isn’t asking as a man, he’s asking as a father. He needs a reassurance that this is not to appease a kid well on its way away from them. “If he doesn’t make it- I won’t- I can’t, Pat”

Pat digs his nails into Jon’s thigh-hard “No” he doesn’t leave much room for any kind of counter argument “We’re here. The doctors will tell us he’s gonna be just fine and then you’ll buy me dinner and let me teach you how not to be emotionally stunt.”

Jon parks his car and drags himself out. He wants to rush in but he’s too afraid of what he might hear. Patrick comes and stands right beside him.

Jon takes his hand and twines their fingers. Patrick squeezes it “I’m glad you’re here with me” Jon whispers.

“Me too” Pat counters back.

That’s the way they enter the hospital. Jon doesn’t know what it means for them yet. All it matters now is for Etienne to be alright.

If he doesn’t survive, Jon will be as good as dead anyway.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the poorly written smut!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a slightly longer chapter since we're on our way to the end. As always, thank you for the comment love :)  
> Enjoy!

Jon knows hospitals all too fucking well. He had walked every corridor, guiding his feet to despair and the hollowness of death. It took months for the smell and the sound to fade. It all comes crashing back to him.

Tears sting his eyes and he blinks them away. He’s still holding Patrick’s hand as he reaches the information desk. He doesn’t care what that makes him; he just needs to feel the weight, take comfort from the smooth palm. “Hello” he croaks “I’m here for Etienne Patrice Toews. He was brought in from Weston nursery school” he doesn’t notice the woman’s face. He finds it better not to associate people he may come in contact with again with such ugly memories.

“Hold on a moment, please. Thank you” the woman says and starts typing away in her computer.

Jon knows she doesn’t mean it literally but he can’t help placing his hand, the one not currently holding Patrick’s on the counter. He bites the corner of his lip and starts tapping his fingers. He immediately freezes. His movement is subdued by stickiness between them.

He’s something between mortified and disgusted. He retreats at once as if the counter was burning. His whole body goes ridged.

“Hey, relax. It’s going to be fine” Patrick whispers leaning closer.

Jon still looks at his palm, sweaty and filthy, an unwashed one that not long ago had given pleasure to another person. He was about to go touch his boy with that hand! Who does that? What responsible person walks in a hospital with unclean hands ready to lay them soothingly on a baby’s head? How has he not noticed it all the way over here? At what point in his life did he become this?

All of a sudden, everything he was feeling dissipates and what lights as a beacon is a fiery red ball of shame. He lets go of Pat’s hand, the very same that anchored him that now seems to be dragging him down. Patrick doesn’t seem to get he wants no contact whatsoever because he settles it at the small of Jon’s back. To get away, he’d have to cause a scene or cling to the counter so he grinds his teeth and clenches his jaw trying to forget the weight and heat it radiates.

“Your son was indeed brought here Mr. Toews” the woman says “He’s still in ICU, 3rd floor on your left.”

“Thank you” Patrick chimes in and starts to guide him towards the elevator. Barely five steps later, he tears himself away and starts frantically searching for a bathroom. “Jonny, the elevator is this way” he hears Pat call behind him but there’s no way he’s going up to his boy in this state.

He doesn’t know if Pat follows, he wishes he doesn’t, and when he finds the bathroom he bursts in and runs straight to the sink. He taps the liquid soap until it slips through his fingers and starts scrubbing. He scrubs and scrubs until his flesh is a deep shade of red and then once more for good measure. He lets the water run freely hoping it can wash away all his guilt as well.

He splashes some on his face, fixes his hair that is running wild, lathers his palms with the hand sanitizer twice and takes a deep breath. He turns to find Pat by the door looking at him with wide eyes, concern and worry written all over his features. Jon hates him a little; he mostly hates himself for being undeserving.

He walks right by him and towards the elevator silently. Patrick follows suit. He doesn’t turn to look; he can just hear the footsteps. He’s both thankful for the space and irrationally angry that Patrick understands exactly what he needs right now.

The next time he opens his mouth is in the ICU, when he comes face to face with a woman dressed in teal scrubs “I’m Jonathan Toews. I’m here for Etienne-“

“Are you his father?”

“I’m his uncle and legal guardian” he always makes the clarification; all his life he has gotten everything in bigger amounts than David- more attention, more talent, more money, more effort. In the end he even got the privilege of raising his son. He could never let himself stripe him off that title. He didn’t need a word to be Etienne’s parent. Dave deserved to still hold that honour.

“Etienne has a cranial trauma sustained from a fall” she says softly “He was unconscious at first, then regained consciousness enough to complain about a severe head ache and went back under. Radiographs show a skull fracture and epidural haematoma.”

Jon tries to find somewhere to lean on. He doesn’t need clarification; he knows what that is and what could potentially go wrong. He’s lived it himself “Mr. Toews, though we have a general surgeon on staff and the right equipment, Etienne’s condition requires a specialized neurosurgeon we unfortunately do not have at our disposal.”

Jon thinks he’s going to faint “Does this mean- should he be moved? Is he in any condition to-“he can’t find the right words; he can’t find any for that matter.

“No, sir. Unfortunately, moving him is not an option. We have already called for a specialist, but there’s no easy access to an airport where he is at this time. We’re trying to find the best way to make it happen as soon as possible.”

“Would charting a helicopter do?” Patrick asks from right beside him. Jon has forgotten he is there.

“That would be ideal, sir but we’re a small, private hospital operating on donations and we couldn’t possibly...I don’t suppose your insurance covers that, does it?”

Jon shakes his head. Of course it doesn’t. They all know it. “Money is not an issue. Forget the cost; just do whatever it takes for Etienne to be alright, right Jonny?”

Jon can do nothing but nod. Whatever it takes, Patrick said and he was right; taking a mortgage out on the farm, even selling it if necessary. Bricks and beams don’t matter, what matters is Etienne. There isn’t a single thing he wouldn’t give for him. He just wishes there was a way for him to take his place.

“Can I see him?” he asks. He feels like if he spends another minute away from him he’s going to lose his mind.

“Of course. Right through here” Jon follows quietly “Second room on your right. I have to go make the arrangements but I’ll be back to let you know, ok?”

“Thank you” he mutters and goes straight for Etienne’s room. He pauses at the door “I-“he fishes his phone off his jacket “Can you call Brent for me? Tell him what’s happening?” he asks as he hands his mobile to Patrick.

“Of course”

“Tell him to call my parents. And tell him...tell him to...he needs to do something about money. Call someone about a mortgage or...or a sale, I don’t know. Whatever it takes.”

“Jonny, you don’t have to...”

“Just tell him” he doesn’t have time to debate this, he doesn’t have the strength either.

Patrick turns to leave and Jon stops him “Also, tell him that Etienne’s money are not to be touched. It’s not an option, OK? No matter what!” he hasn’t touched a penny and he’s not about to. He’d rather risk losing everything he owns than do that.

He braces himself and opens the door. Etienne is lying in the middle of the bed, looking so tiny, like one of his playmobil’s when he splays them on the carpet. He’s hooked on machines that beep and flash and there are IV lines in his hand. He looks so pale; the only vivid colour is the dried blood on his forehead.

Jon sits in the chair beside the bed and takes hold of his hand. “I’m here, Eti. I’m sorry it took so long” the boy’s hand is cold and unmoving. If the monitor was not beeping, Jon would have thought he- NO- not even as a worst nightmare will that thought pass his mind. “It’s going to be alright. The doctor will be coming soon and he’ll take such a good care of you” _much better than I did_ is what he really means.

He lifts the little hand to his mouth and sets a soft kiss “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry” he buries his head in the sheets and lets his tears fall. 

 

 

Patrick watches Jonathan and his heartbreak convulses him. How does he not break under the weight of this anguish? What inner strength does he possess to hold himself up and not crumble? Patrick can barely keep himself together. He clenches his teeth and goes through the motions in case they need him to keep them afloat; the way he needs them. Or maybe they don’t. Maybe he’s the only weak one because if Jonny was to fall, Patrick would surely follow.

He’s not the one who matters right now though. Nothing is more important than Etienne. He has to do everything in his power to make sure the boy survives. He watches the motionless little body, his closed eyelids and he tells himself that he’s just sleeping. He’s the beauty that awaits patiently for the curse to pass. Fate has shown her ugly face to him once before and has the scars to prove he survived. He’ll rise victorious once again because that’s how stories are supposed to end.

Soon enough, he’ll be running around chasing Ace and giggling with Patrick as they dive in the dried leaves. They’ll find ways to sneak inside the house before Jon can spot them and he’ll teach Patrick how to properly read him the Petite Prince as Jonny does. They can go to the pirate’s exhibit, the Tinkertown Park and they will build a bear and everything else the little boy wants.

Patrick has more money than he can count and he has no problem spending them for him. Not that they are particularly useful at this time. Sure, they can buy him comfort but can they cure him? And how does he convince Jonny to accept them?

Jon lifts his head and turns his gaze on him. He wears a mask that reveals nothing but two dead pools of darkness. Patrick puts on one of his own, the one that grins and lies and pretends there are no cracks and slashes beneath it.

He walks up to him and crouches down to his level. “Brent says not to worry; just take care of yourself and he’ll handle everything else”

Jon just nods weakly “How are you holding up?”

He just shrugs and Patrick doesn’t give it a second thought. He places his hand over Jon’s and kisses the side of his head. Jon tenses “Don’t-“he commands, voice stone cold and eyes hard.

Patrick retracts himself “I’m sorry. I just thought-“he thought Jonny needs the comfort, he thought he had the right to give it to him after everything that happened between them.

Jon averts his eyes; he looks at his hand again and he scrunches his nose like he smells something sour “I- what did I do?” he hates the fact that his voice trembles but something in Jon’s disposition implies more than just grief for Etienne.

“Maybe you should leave” is what he gets for an answer and he would have rather he’d be punched in the face.

“Jonny”

“Go away, Pat. Can’t you see this only causes trouble? I forgot somewhere on the way but I knew it the moment I saw you.”

“Why, Jonny” unshed tears are heavy on his eyelashes “What changed? Just a couple hours ago-“

“Don’t- Don’t even say it!” Patrick can see him eyeing his hand again, how it twitches and fists the sheet “It was a mistake. I let myself get distracted and look where it got me” he sets his eyes on Etienne and Pat can see clearly the moment his mask is taken off. It’s being replaced by a dark cloud of guilt that surrounds his whole being.

“You can’t possibly believe that what we did had anything to do with Et-“

“Don’t- This is not on you, Patrick. I don’t blame you. This is all me and I’m sorry. I was the one with the duty to make him a priority and I lost my way.  I dragged you in my mess and for that I apologize.”

“Jonny, this is not on you. It was an accident. There wasn’t anything you could have done to stop it”

“I should have taken better care of him. I should have kept him safe. What did I do instead? I got myself drunk trying to forget how my hands longed to touch you. I wished every night he’d exhaust himself and go to bed early so I can spend a few moments alone with you. I had thoughts and feelings I stopped caring about a long time ago.”

“It’s not a fault to care, Jonny. It’s not a crime to want something for yourself. It doesn’t make you a bad parent. It makes you human. You can’t be what he needs when you barely know who you are yourself.”

Jon grips the sheet so tight his knuckles turn white “I knew who I was before you came along. I’ll remember again once you’re gone”

“Then it sucks for you, because I’m not going anywhere”

“ _Pat_ ” it’s a whine, a plea; he’s not sure how he can tell, he just can.

Patrick raises his hand to his jaw and forces Jon to look at him “I won’t allow you to do this. This is not your fault and until you accept you’re just a man who can’t control life in general then you’ll be alone and miserable and you’ll drag Eti down with you. This is not about me, you’re right. I’m not the problem and I might not be the solution either but it needs to be someone sooner or later- it just so happens I’m still willing to try. You can’t live your life hiding away, building walls to keep everything at bay; it doesn’t work, Jonny. I’ve been doing it my whole life and still, you and Eti found a way through the shields.”

“You’re just a tourist and we’re a stop on your way” he aims to hurt but Patrick is ready for the blow.

“Yet I’m not the one walking away. I’m still standing here Jonny and you’re still pushing me out of the door”

 Jon exhales deeply “I can’t do this right now. I can’t- Etienne...”

“I know. You’re not doing him any good by beating yourself up. What if he opens his eyes and sees you like this? You so much as frown and he makes it his mission to light up your world. Do you want to put your self-loathing on his tiny shoulders? Hasn’t he suffered enough?” he half expects Jon to shove him away. He has crossed one line too many.

Instead, Jon nods meekly and tilts his body Patrick’s way. It reminds Patrick of the way Etienne lifts his hands up silently when he wants to be hugged. Patrick closes the space between them and lets him rest his head on his shoulder “This doesn’t...It’s complicated...I can’t think-“

“Not the time, I know. We’ll get through this and maybe then...just don’t make me leave” he knows that if Jon really wants he can make sure Pat stays away, no matter how hard he stands his ground. He’s not above begging. He’s not about to walk away without a fight.

“OK” Jon snuggles closer to him and Patrick holds him there with a hand on his back. He thinks he hears I muffled ‘thank you’ but he’s not positive. The fight is not over; Jonny is just taking a break recuperating. Patrick hasn’t won the war, just the battle this time around. It doesn’t make much of a victory when your opponent is too wiped out to try but Patrick is determined to stick around for the next fight.

They stay like that for a while, long enough for Brent to arrive and for Jon to close himself off on his shell again, away from Patrick.

“Hey, I just heard the nurses talking” Brent says out of breath “they’re expecting the helicopter soon. How’s our little guy?”

“No change. Did you find the money?”

“I brought you a couple hundred. It was the best I could do at this time. The banks are closed and there was no way-“

Jon visibly shrinks “It’s not enough. We have to pay for the helicopter and I don’t think my insurance covers all expenses and what if he needs-“he’s driving himself in a torpor and Patrick has to fight himself from reaching forward and shaking him out of it. Brent beats him to it.

“Jonny, breath” he hugs him tightly and Jon goes limp in his arms. There’s no wall, no armour, no secret codes to bypass it. Brent has earned his place inside the gates. The green eyed monster inside Patrick resurfaces and joins his sorrow “We’ll find a way. Your parents can help, we can use Eti’s money-“

“NO” Jon shakes his head vehemently.

“Stop being a stubborn ass. You haven’t touched any of it since you got Etienne. You raised him from your own pocket and everyone knows that. No one would think-“

“I said no. I’ll go to the bank first thing tomorrow. I’ll sell everything if I have to but no one touches that money. No one!”

 “Fine, have it your way! And while you’re at it, go tell the boys they need to pack up their shit and get out. Run by the hospital and inform Duncan not to bother getting discharged because he won’t have a home to return to. I’ll be ready to leave by tonight. A small price to pay to keep your dignity, isn’t?” Brent doesn’t let him go; Jon is the one who shies away as if slapped. Everyone seems to be handing a piece of tough love to him today.

“I can’t believe you would- how could you- why can’t you understand that-“Jon is at a loss for words. The hurt in his face reveals the betrayal he feels; an island in the middle of a vast ocean that clings to nothing.

Brent pulls him in again, as much as Jon fights him. The moment he crashes into his chest all fight leaves him. The choked sobs push daggers right through Pat’s heart “I can’t, Brent- I don’t-“

Brent caresses his hair “I know” he cradles him close like a baby, trying to sooth his ache and reassure him.

None of them see Patrick exit the room. He doesn’t think they hear the door close behind him either. He walks down the corridor in search for a pay phone.

“I’m surprised you haven’t called sooner” Sharp’s voice is cheerful and filled with satisfaction “How is the farm treating you?”

Patrick’s two words away from taking some of the load off of Jon’s shoulders, two words away from providing Etienne with everything he ever wished and couldn’t get, two words away from the right choice...the truth...two words that can set you free...two words that finds it difficult to utter.

Two words that give Jonny and Etienne everything, while Patrick loses the world... Deep inside him, he knows that if he lets them out of his mouth, there’s no turning back. It’s the right choice, but it’s the hardest one he ever made.

The conversation with Jonny was in vain, the strain from the hard fight to assert a place in their life, all for nothing. He doesn’t think there’s a way back after this. No way that could erase the betrayed look on Jonny’s eyes; no way he can prevent himself from being another scar in Jonny’s tattered soul and none to stop his own from shuttering.

He thinks they’re worth it; he owns them at least that much. He just wishes he gets a chance to say goodbye. One last look; just so he’ll be able to tuck away their image in a vault in his heart, safe and happy; keep them there permanently and always carry them with him wherever he goes. 

He takes a deep breath “You win”

 

 

“When will this end?” Jonny asks Brent as they stand aside watching Etienne being taken away. He feels like they have spent half their lives in a hospital corridor waiting, fearing for the worst and hoping for the best.

“I don’t know” Brent sounds as defeated as Jonny feels but that can be expected. He’s been there every single time, a hand on Jon’s shoulder, a voice of reason and a friend you only wish you’d be lucky enough to have.

“I’m done, Brent. I have no fight left...if he- I’m so tired” he’s so weary of spurning fate, of being afraid he’ll have to bid farewell to things that matter, of digging his way up from whichever bottom he’s been thrown in every single day of his life.

“I know” Brent always does “but Jonny, we’ll get through this too. We’ll dig a little deeper and fight a little harder and we’ll find a way because this is Etienne we’re talking about. You can’t quit on him, not now”

“I’m not good for him, Brent, can’t you see? I’m constantly letting him down. I’ve made a little boy think it’s his responsibility to take care of me. Who does that?”

“You didn’t make Etienne do anything. He loves you, Jonny. He loves you because you made him your whole world and put his happiness above everything else and he knows it. He feels responsible for the same reason; because your happiness means the whole world to him in return. You did nothing for the last three years but dote on him; you stepped up big, above and beyond anyone else would. Be proud, Jonny. Take credit for a job well done and stop blaming yourself for everything.”

“I could have been better, I could have done more- then maybe he wouldn’t be laying there-

“No, you couldn’t have. And even if you made a few mistakes along the way so what? no one is perfect. You’re just a man Jonny, not God and even He fucked up once or twice. You are a good father, more than.”

Jon swallows audibly “Do you really believe that? Truly?” 

“Yeah and you know what the most important part is? That Etienne does too”

“He thinks I’m pretty awesome, eh?” he allows himself a watery smile.

Brent chuckles half-heartedly as well “Eh, he’s still young; give him time and he’ll realize what a huge dork you are”

Jon slugs him on the arm “You’re such a shit. Why do I keep you around?”

“Because I’m the thread that helps you find your way out of the labyrinth” Brent answers smugly.

Jon pats his tummy a few times “Now I know where the mythology volume went. Lay off the paper, fatty, we can’t afford a new belt”

“Can I tell you a secret Jonny?” Brent says leaning close “You think you’re funny but you’re really, _really_ , not”

“Fuck you! I’m hilarious”

“Whatever gets you through the day, man!”

 

 

 

This is Jon’s life in a nutshell; a series of wrong turns that guide him to the unknown. He feels like he’s running in circles, unable to do anything than stay on whichever course he’s taken.

This wandering around is probably his fault, though. It’s not like he’s clear headed enough to pay attention where he’s going. He tries to process what the doctor had told him.

Etienne has a severe haemorrhage, blood putting pressure on the brain. A catheter must be placed in his scull to absorb the haematoma and relieve the stress. The risks are high; death, permanent brain or neuron damage, both with multiple subsequent side effects but there’s no other option; no alternative.

She had ended her speech on a positive note, stressing that this was the worst case scenario one she was obligated mention to help him make an informed decision. Not that he really had a choice- there was the certainty of death and the possibility of it. You don’t need a high IQ or a medical degree to know which way the scale tips.

Jon walks around aimlessly hoping Pat was there to do the math and give him the statistic probabilities; Patrick is good at that. He’s also contradictory great at calming his soul while raising his body. He’s almost certain he lurks around somewhere close, giving Jon space while simultaneously being there for him.

He regrets sending him away now. Maybe he’s still confused and torn, wondering how a single person can twist him that much inside but the need of him is prominent. It shakes him to his core, it frightens him, being emotionally dependant on a practical stranger but something always pushes him Pat’s way; like two opposite poles that have no choice but to meet in the middle.

He walks up to the nurses’ station because that’s the most likely place Pat would be hanging around, waiting for updates.

There’s no sign of him but the nurses are huddled together, looking over a magazine “See? I told you it was him” one of them exclaims, patting the open page “I recognised him at once”

“Paris Match did a spread on him? Who is this guy?” another asks befuddled.

“Oh, come on! How can you not know him? Patrick Kane has been on the Forbes list for the last five-six years.”

“Unlike you, I don’t spend my time browsing around for wealthy husbands” Jon feels the need to crush the other nurse’s hopes and inform her that nothing of Pat’s previous lucrative life style can be possible now but he discovers idle gossip to be distracting and slightly amusing so he just stays silent.  

The nurse who holds the magazine, a petite blond, huffs indignantly “It’s not like he’s husband material. He’s kind of a man whore. The rumour is that the most you can get out of him is a few hours of sex. He doesn’t do dates, let alone relationships”

“So why is he here? What’s that Toews kid has to do with anything? Do you think he’s a secret lovechild?”

The blond shrugs “Probably one of his charity cases. It says here that he doesn’t just write checks, he gets involved; volunteering in hospitals and shelters and such. It’s mentioned as a side-note because he doesn’t like to talk about it”

“It makes sense” a third nurse chimes in “Marcy from accountants’ told me he insisted on covering all expenses but was adamant it be written down as an anonymous donation. He even wrote her a second check for the hospital alone. He didn’t even care that most of the cost can be handled through insurance”

Jon’s head is spinning. He wants to yell that none of it makes sense because Patrick has no money; he doesn’t even have a place to stay. He gets paid minimum wage for temporary employment for Christ’s sake. He can barely afford to buy the absolute necessities.

“If he won’t marry me can he at least adopt me?” the blonde nurse asks longingly “The article says he bought his goddaughter a pony as a gift for her first day of preschool!” Jon can hear a page flipping _“Madelyn Grace Sharp, age 4, daughter of the owners of ‘Shooter’s Agency’ Patrick and Abby Sharp and Kane’s goddaughter poses gleefully next to her new acquisition- a gift by her godfather to mark her first milestone”_ see the picture? Isn’t she the cutest?”

The nurses coo all around her while Jon searches frantically for a bin to empty the contents of his stomach. This clearly has to be a mistake. It has to. He gathers his courage and struts over to their desk making the nurses jump by the sudden intrusion “May I see the magazine, please?” he asks through gritted teeth.

The girl hands it over, with a small blush but Jon can’t even be bothered. It’s not her embarrassment he’s interested in. He flips the pages and comes face to face with a posh looking Patrick, photographed in his mansion surrounded by his family. A set of parents and three sisters; good to know he was at least truthful about that.

There’s a foot note at the bottom and Jon blinks to clear his vision _“Kane’s new software is expected to be released late this spring. Its date will be finalized once he returns from Canada, where he currently takes a much needed break visiting family friends. The anticipation has reached high levels and the company’s stock market value has skyrocketed, making him even in his absence a few billion dollars wealthier.”_

Jon grips the pages tight enough to imprint the words in his palm. He shuts the magazine and checks the date. The numbers are mocking him, bold and steady.

The magazine was released today.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're almost done! this is the longest chapter yet, I hope you enjoy it!  
> as always, thank you for your lovely comments :)

The longer time passes and Jon has no new updates about Etienne’s progress the more time he has for his anger to bubble inside him about Pat’s charade.

Carey and PK are by his side but they’re not much help. PK’s eyes are red and puffy and Carey has a faraway look, wondering which one of them to support and how. The way he clinks to PK it’s a reveal on its own just how much in need of it he himself is as well.

The doors open and a nurse comes out. He walks up to Jon smiling softly and hope starts fluttering in Jonathan’s chest again. “The haemorrhage is under control and the swelling is dissipating. The doctor can’t detect any damage to the brain up to this point.”

Jon nods and smiles at him. It’s not a guarantee but it’s a step to the right direction “Thank you” he says sincerely. If he was inherently affectionate with strangers he would have hugged him. PK does it for him. “That means he’s going to make it, right?” _he’s not going to die_ is what he asks but he could never voice it out loud.

“We still have a long way to go but we’re cautiously optimistic. I’ll give you an update as soon as we know more.”

Jon slumps but nods his thanks. Carey and PK seem a bit livelier but he can’t share the sentiment. He feels a phantom fist gripping his heart and squeezing his head at the same time.

“Jon- Jon can you hear me? Are you feeling OK?” Carey’s worried voice barely registers in his ears but it’s enough to get him out of his trance.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. I just- I’m fine”

“You should go outside for a bit, get some air; maybe a cup of coffee. It’d be good for you.”

Some air would be nice, he thinks but he can’t possible leave Eti alone “We’ll be right here, Jon” Carey says quietly, velvety that makes him think he must have said it out loud. “Go” he pushes him towards the exit door this time.

He goes outside and finds a quiet corner. He sits on a bench, closes his eyes and lets the breeze caress his face. He revels in the feeling for a bit and sends quick updates to Brent and his parents. He reassures his mother that he’s not alone and that they don’t need to make the drive, not yet anyway. She’s fighting the whole way through until he pleads with her to stop. He knows himself; he’ll crumble the moment she steps foot in the hospital. He’ll become a boy himself again and hide away in her arms and that is not an option at this time.

He messes around in his phone trying to find Andrew’s number when he gets a glimpse of Sharp’s in his contacts. He contemplates it for two beats, it’s not the most opportune moment, but he needs to be able to feel in control of at least something and for that to happen he needs to have all the facts. He swipes ‘call’.

 The waver in Sharp’s voice when he answers is crystal clear “ _Jon?_ ”

“Hello, Patrick”

_“Is everything- How is your son?”_

“So, you know” it’s not that Jon wasn’t expecting it but it’s one thing to speculate and another to get confirmation. He has a feeling that’s how their whole conversation will go.

_“Yeah, Pat called me”_ of course he did, isn’t that what criminals do with their co-conspirators?

“The surgery isn’t over. We don’t know much” he doesn’t know why he answers truthfully, maybe because Sharp is a father himself and he thinks the concern in his voice is genuine “Is he there with you?”

Sharp, to his credit, doesn’t play dumb “ _I thought he was still in the hospital with you. Has he left?”_

“I wouldn’t know. It’s not like I know an awful lot, is it?” he taste the bitterness in his tongue and he has the urge to spit.

“ _Look, Jon-“_

“He’s not broke, is he? There was no misfortune, no bankruptcy, nothing” it’s not a question, the conviction has settled inside him.

“ _Jon, it’s not like you think_ ”

“The truth, Sharp! I’m done with the bullshit” he hates it when he loses control but how does anyone stay calm under these circumstances.

“ _The truth is- he didn’t lose any at all, he’s possibly even richer than before. You have to understand, Jon. Patrick is a good man; generous, affectionate, sensitive but he can be stubborn, reckless and self destructive all the same.”_

“What does that have to do with me? With my boy? Where do we fit in in all this?”

“ _Patrick is a bit of an obsessive matchmaker. Every year on his birthday he plans and funds a trip in the hope some of his friends will fall in love. He means well, really but a few success stories had convinced him he is Cupid. We love him Jon but we couldn’t just stand around and let him think it’s all right to play with people’s lives that way. So, I- I came up with a plan. To send him on an ‘adventure’ of his own, give him a taste of his own medicine if you will; that’s how he ended up on your farm_ ”

Jon and his family, his farm was a cautionary tale, a way to scare Patrick into behaving. “Is my life a joke to you? My home and my family? Are we nothing but pawns on your scheme? We’re not a horror show, Sharp. We’re real people, with responsibilities and feelings and we may have our struggles but we don’t come with a warning of things to avoid. We’re not beneath you and we’re not something you can look down on” it scares him that he doesn’t even yell, he’s so cool and calm and his voice doesn’t crack but once “I’ll mail you your check and the money you already paid. Do us all a favour and buy yourself a one-way ticket to Hell. It’ll make for a good adventure.”

Jon doesn’t wait for the apology he knows is coming; he has no need of it. He ends the call and weirdly enough he thinks a whole lot better about himself. Whatever his faults maybe, whatever shortcoming he has, whatever mistakes he made, he can still look himself in the mirror and not get disgusted by the sight. It’s not self absolution but it makes him feel lighter.

The weight of Pat’s lies still try to floor him; Touches and kisses, moans that made him fly are dumbbells now he has no strength to lift. All a charade, a rich man’s whim; Nothing but a bet. A pay back for those times his friends tolerated his mischievous ways.

Jon will clench his teeth, dunk his head and deal with the falling out; he’ll mend whatever damage this will cause his heart. What’s another crack; he has deeper wounds that haven’t healed yet. He won’t let Patrick win; not this round, not one ever again.

He shakes his shoulders, stretches his legs and flicks his hands in an attempt to throw off the last pieces of Patrick’s hands that linger. It doesn’t work, not yet but Jon is nothing but determined. He’ll get there sooner or later.

 

   

 

Jon sits silently by Etienne’s bed. The surgery has been successful, the doctor assured him but they would still have to wait for the anaesthesia to fade to assess any dwelling issues. It was a spark of hope that he had no choice but to grab hold of if he was to see it through with his sanity intact.

Etienne’s tiny head is wrapped in gauzes, tubes placed in his small hands making look so fragile but there’s serenity in his face it was not there before.  The monitor panels echo a steady beating, strong and rhythmic that makes Jon a believer of a positive outcome.

He was so used to the tempo he barely registers the tiniest change. His eyes immediately shoot towards the bed and come in contact with blue lightness.

“Papa” Etienne croaks stringy. It’s the most beautiful sound Jon has ever heard. His eyes fill with tears he makes no attempt to hide.

The door opens and a nurse comes in “The monitors showed some motion”

Jon turns to her, wetness still on his cheeks and a lopsided grin “He’s awake”

“Hi, little man. You gave us quite a scare” the nurse says softly “How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy” the little boy answers with some effort “Thirsty”

The nurse smiles kindly and nods at Jon whose hand is already on the water bottle by the night table “Just a few sips for now, the anaesthesia have not worn off entirely and there’s a possibility he’ll feel nauseated. I’ll fetch you a straw and I’ll call the doctor. You can let him sleep for a while longer as well”

She answers all of his questions before he even voices them, clearly familiar with these situations. Jon wonders how people do it. The girl has red curly hair tucked in a ponytail that wiggles as she turns right by the door. She smiles up at him “Things are looking good, Mr. Toews”

Jon’s eyes water once more, with relief this time “You sad?” hears Etienne whisper.

He shakes his head and takes the tiny hand in his palm “No, buddy. They are happy tears” usually the boy would wonder how that can be but he’s still so tired he just huffs an agreement; or at least that’s what Jon thinks that sound he makes mean.

“I scared” his lower lip wobbles and Jon squeezes his hand tighter.

“I was scared, too” he admits “But everything is going to be alright, OK? You don’t have to worry anymore. You’re going to be fine”

“No wanna leave you- No be an angel”

He knows it’s not possible but he’s certain he both feels and hears a loud crack in his chest, right where his heart is “You won’t” he states vehemently “You’re not going anywhere and neither am I” he reassures. He needs to hear it out loud as bad as Etienne does.

The boy seems appeased “Sleep?” he mumbles, eyelids already more than half closed.

“Yeah, buddy. Sleep. I’ll be right here”

 

     

Patrick waited patiently till the end, hidden in corners out of the way to not add more unnecessary stress on Jonny. Not that he was in any hurry to front him; truthfully, he is still dreading the encounter. It’ll be the last they ever have but he owns an explanation, an apology and a proper goodbye.

He takes a deep breath and opens the door gingerly, carefully, trying not to cause any further disturbance than he already had. He closes it just as softly behind him.

Etienne is lying on the bed asleep, wrapped up in bandages and the protective cocoon that is Jon’s aura. The minute Jonny registers his presence in the room he shoots up from his chair and hides the boy from Pat’s sight; like a barrier, a shield.

Patrick winces at the gesture but he can’t really blame Jonny. He half expects to be thrown out on the spot but Jon just readjusts his posture and schools his features.

“Mr. Kane” he greets coolly but nothing in his posture screams hostility. It scares the living crap out of Patrick.

“How is he doing?” he asks, not that he doesn’t know. He was kept updated the whole way through but he can’t find another way for a conversation opener “The doctor said-“

Jonny doesn’t even let him finish “He’s much better, thank you, both for your concern and your generosity. You do admirable charity work and we’re indebted to you”

Patrick had prepared himself for Jon’s anger but this detachment slays him. The thinly veiled accusation doesn’t go unnoticed as well. It hits him straight in the chest. This is worse than he imagined, worse than Sharp had informed him “Jonny, please don’t do this... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry... just let me expl-“

“I’m sorry, too- that you lost your bet I mean. Your ego must have taken a huge blow” he doesn’t sound sorry, he doesn’t seem like it either while Pat himself truly is.

“You were worth it; both of you. That and so much more. I-” he means every word. Maybe he didn’t in the beginning but plans fail even brilliant ones like Pat’s.

 “You did spend an awful lot for a few kisses and a hurried hand job. Your flings usually cost you nothing. Too bad I didn’t get the chance to fuck you. I could have made it worth your money. Not that I’m deluding myself thinking I’m anything special but I do rank up high on your adventures’ costs. Leave a forwarding address on your way out Mr. Kane and I’ll personally make sure you get a full refund.”

The slap leaves a sting on Pat’s cheek even if Jon’s hand was never anywhere near it “It wasn’t like that” he mumbles weakly “You know it wasn’t. It may have started as a bet-“ it’s hopeless to explain, he can see it written clearly on Jonny’s face but he at least has to try.

“Don’t waste your breath. Sharp already gave me the run down. Don’t tell me he hasn’t already informed you about our chat” Patrick opens his mouth to confirm it but he doesn’t get a chance to this time either “Save it! I don’t give a damn about your reasons or your excuses. Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie anyway”

“The truth is-“Patrick starts

“I don’t care” Jon is starting to lose his cool but so is Patrick.

“Well, I do. I care! I didn’t plan to- All I wanted was to win a stupid bet and get the Sharp’s off my back. I didn’t ask to feel this thing in my chest, this fluttering whenever you were around. I didn’t want you wandering around my head all the time and I didn’t plan on liking the farm. I certainly didn’t choose to love this little boy, making stupid dreams about making us a family maybe-someday down the road. It all kind of happened. And you know what? I’m glad it did. Even now, I’m still glad. And I still care. Walking away and leaving everything behind stopped being an option a while back. That’s the truth” he says it all in one breath, leaving no room for Jon to interrupt. He says it all with wet eyes and damp cheeks and no shred of pride. He says it all, eyes locked on Jonny’s face.

Jonny turns his back on him “Go back to your old life, Patrick. There’s nothing left for you here”

“Jonny, please” he begs, chocking on a sob.

“Leave”

 

 

 

Patrick stays. He stays close and observes. He still gets updated by the doctors and he still lurks in the corners long enough for Jonny to leave the room for a while. It takes him two days but it’s worth the wait.

PK sneaks him in reluctantly. He’s not exactly hostile but he’s not friendly either. Patrick can’t fault him for his behaviour. It stings when PK says “now we’re even” because helping him get together with Carey wasn’t supposed to be part of a favour exchange. Patrick will be forever grateful he didn’t just send him away. He doesn’t like it that he has to go behind Jon’s back either but it’s not like he left him another option. Patrick has a promise to keep.

He finds Etienne awake, eyes still a little glassy but with a rosy colour back on his cheeks. “Hey, buddy. How are you feeling?”

Etienne perks up immediately “Patwick, you here!” he tries to lift himself up but Patrick stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Lie down, buddy. You need to be careful for a while longer.”

Etienne nods and settles “Miss you” he says and it’s half complaining half accusation.

 “I missed you, too. I’m sorry I didn’t come by to see you sooner but I had some business to take care of”

“You ‘membered Ace’s food? He not be hungry! Louise has baby yet? You bring my teddy? Papa forget again”

It’s not like he wasn’t mushy before but he thinks he’s spiralling down, more often than not his eyes water on their own accord “I wasn’t hom- I wasn’t in the farm, buddy. I was-“this is the hardest part and Pat braces himself for the outcome “I was getting ready to go back home”. He tries very hard not to quail and Etienne’s fallen face makes it hard.

“You leave?” watery blue meets watery blue, asking and answering all with one look.

“I have to, remember? We’ve talked about this” he reaches for Etienne’s hand but the boy shies away from the touch.

He turns his face away from Patrick “Fine! Go!” he tries to sound stern but the sniffle betrays him.

“Eti, please look at me”

Etienne shakes his head “No wanna”

It’s Jon all over; Patrick can’t go through this again, not with Eti “Please” he begs. Etienne remains stubborn.

Patrick searches in his pocket and takes out the pendant “I brought you a gift. It’s a charm. You can’t see it because you don’t want to look at me but on one half there’s a part of the earth and the stars, the little prince is standing on the other half”

He can see Etienne trying to sneak a peek so he goes on “Remember how we promised that no matter where we are we can still be friends? This is how. I’ll take the half with the stars and every time I look at them I’ll know that the prince is on one of them, like in the book you love, and you with him as well; and every time you look at the prince, right where his foot touches the earth you’ll know that’s where I will be, that very spot he points at...and you’ll know that even if we’re not together we still won’t be apart”

They both openly sob at this point enough that have no idea they’re being watched. Patrick sets half the pendant on Etienne’s palm and the boy closes his fist so hard he winces from the pain. He still doesn’t turn his head and Patrick’s heart breaks.

He bites his bottom lip, stretches forward and leaves a feathery kiss on Etienne’s still bandaged forehead “Goodbye, buddy”

He turns to the door and freezes in his spot. Jon is standing close by, watching them intensely but wears a mask that doesn’t allow Patrick to understand what he’s feeling.

Pat raises his hand in surrender “I’m sorry. I just wanted to say goodbye. I’m leaving now”

He makes it to the door and he’s turning the handle when Etienne lets out a cry “Patwick”

Patrick turns on his heels but doesn’t dare to move. Etienne is wiggling his fingers, silently asking for a hug. Patrick hesitates. He turns towards Jonny and when he gives him a firm nod he approaches Eti’s bed once again.

He hugs the boy as well as he can, squeezing him a bit firmer than is wise. Etienne’s tiny hands grip at his clothes and he muffles his sobs on Pat’s chest.

Patrick untangles himself from the embrace and leaves another kiss on Eti’s cheek this time “Wish I can keep you” Eti whispers, like it’s a secret.

Patrick smiles because he’s not a friendly ghost “Wish I could stay” it’s so low he barely hears it himself.

He doesn’t hesitate this time, lingering will make everything worse “Thank you” it’s the last thing he says to Jonny. He wishes it wasn’t so but it beats the goodbye that refuses to leave his lips.

Jonny rewards him with nothing but a nod.

“Patwick” Etienne yells again the minute he steps a foot outside the door. Patrick doesn’t know if he has the strength to go through it again but he can’t deny the boy and himself one last look “Love you” the boy cries.

“I love you too”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spring passes in a haze for Jon; a haze of nursing Etienne back to life and the sweet drunkenness of winning. His luck had turned on an ordinary Wednesday, out of the blue between the evening news and the prime time show. He had almost forgotten the lottery ticket until he heard the numbers: 19 88 11 5 29 16 – 01 and just like that boom! he became the winner of 6/49 jackpot! 35 million dollars that wasn’t an April Fools Joke!

He settles his debts, hires more than enough farm hands, finishes the cabins and finds himself for the first time in years not being weighed down but financial insecurity. It still isn’t enough to shake off the heaviness in his heart, that pressure, the squeeze that tells him it aches and bleeds; and no matter what he buys, in whatever luxuries he indulges it is not enough still to feel the void inside.

He writes the check to Patrick with trembling hands, feeling less than the closure he had hoped for. The truth is, he’d give every penny back to look at the sunbeams reflecting on Patrick’s infinite blue gaze one more time.

Summer is here now, well past its midterm, and his brain still argues with his heart over the matter. The sun is setting and he sits on the porch watching the orange hue; Etienne’s laughter as he chases Ace around echoes in his ears. It brings a soft smile on his lips and a feeling of true blessing watching him slowly return to his former self.

Those tiny footsteps approach and Jon turns to look at the little boy, hair tussled and clothes filled with dirt. Etienne rushes up to him and hides his face on Jon’s chest sobbing hysterically “Papa, he ate flower”

Jon’s momentary panic subsides immediately “Ace went to the flower patch again, eh? That’s OK buddy, we’ll fix it.”

Etienne shakes his head “You no und’stand...he eat the ‘delions...he eat his flower”

“Whose flower buddy?” Jon doesn’t know what a delion is or who it belongs to.

Etienne chokes on a sob “Patwick”

Jon feels like a bucket of iced water has just been thrown over his head. “We’ll-“he clears his throat, not trusting his voice won’t come out strangled “I’ll go get my trowel and we’ll fix it in no time, buddy, it’s OK”

Etienne shakes his head again “No. You call him, he come fix it-he know; you no know how”

It takes two swallows passed the lump in his throat to be able to finally answer “We’ll ask Brandon how. He knows all the stuff, right?” he deflects, using Etienne’s happiness over Brandon and Andrew’s return to stir the boy away from the request. He feels like a shit person and an even worse father for it but he does it nonetheless.

“He no know; Patwick do” the boy insists and Jon notices he has stopped crying and now he’s openly glowering.

Jon had been wishing and hoping Etienne would forget all about him but he still catches the little boy looking at his pendant frequently. They fight every night because he refuses to take it off even when he goes to bed. If he’s being honest with himself it’s not just the worry the chain can wrap around the boy’s neck that’s making him insist. It’s partly because every time Jon sets eyes on it, he can’t help but remember the day Patrick gifted it to him.

Whatever lies he might have told, whichever schemes he planned, not even Jon himself could deny the truthfulness of Pat’s heartbreak. The even bitter truth, the one Jon doesn’t admit even to himself that often, is that Patrick didn’t just take half of the pendant when he left; he also took away a part of Jonathan with him.

“You know Patrick can’t come, Eti. We’ll just have to do the best we can to repair the damage ourselves” he’s not so sure he’s talking about the flowers anymore.

“He no come ‘cause you! You say he go away!” he spits the accusation right on Jon’s face, extracting himself from Jon’s arms, and it stings-it stings because it’s true. But how do you explain to a little child that you didn’t trust him enough to believe when he said he wished to stay?

“Eti, we’ve talked about this buddy, remember? You’ve talked about it with him as well” he adds partly because it’s true and partly because he doesn’t want to be the villain in this story. “He had to go back home. He never planned to stay” Jon didn’t plan on wanting to keep him either but right before the end he starting dreaming of ways he could have.

“But he miss us! He say so! I miss Pat, too. You no miss him?” Jon misses him like hell but that’s irrelevant to the story.

“When did he say that, Eti?” Jon questions and Etienne shrivels and bites his bottom lip. “Eti?” the boy still doesn’t answer and he turns his eyes away from him “When did Patrick tell you he misses us, buddy?”

As Jon approaches him, Etienne recoils and Jon’s heart tightens because the boy is afraid to answer “It’s ok, Eti. You can tell me. You can tell me anything, you know that” his tone doesn’t hide the fact that he’s hurt- hurt that somewhere along the way Etienne felt the need to keep a secret from him. He’s also mad at himself for ever making the boy think he’ll be angry at him for anything.

“He- I- he write in letter...wif my b’day gift...please, papa, no be mad” tears are streaking down his cheek as he says it.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m not mad. I can never be mad at you. I saw the gift but I didn’t see the letter. Was it a secret?” Etienne shakes his head “OK, then. Not a secret. Why didn’t you show it to me then?”

“Brent say it make you sad”

Jon winces and closes his eyes. Of course Brent would have said that; he had already cried on his shoulder about it. But somewhere between his sobs and Brent’s suggestion of rethinking his decision if it makes him that miserable, Jon’s pride and ego built a wall and shut everything away. He also built a tiny backdoor he only allows himself to open at nights when the stars don’t shine so there won’t be any witness to his longing.

“I no want you be sad, papa” Jon picks Etienne up and hugs him close. Eti wraps his tiny hands around Jon’s neck and squeezes “Patwick make you laugh. You no laugh now.”

Jonny doesn’t have an answer to that. “Can I read the letter?” he asks instead and Etienne nods.

They go inside and up to Etienne’s room where the boy digs the paper out of his school bag.

Jonny sits on the bed and starts reading. Half way through his vision starts to blur with unshed tears.

“He really no wanna stay?” Etienne asks all sadness and worry.

Jonny shakes his head “No, buddy, he really wished he could” it’s the first time he actually believes it himself.

“Why no can?” Etienne asks.

_Why couldn’t he, really_?

 

 

 

   For the past almost four months Patrick has done nothing but work. He hides himself away in his house and busies himself with two projects at once. He cares nothing about crowds and noises, even less about the pleasures of the flesh. He wears his hair longer and has even tossed the gel bottles on the trash can; his curls are roaming free and wild and there’s a permanent scruff on his face.

His most trusted friends, numbers and graphs, keep him company throughout the day and when nightfall comes and he tucks himself in bed, only then he allows his mind to reminisce about calloused hands and chapped lips. He grabs hold of the memories in an attempt to keep them alive and creates new ones in his head of moments he never had the chance to experience.

  Sometimes they’re made of lust; sometimes Jonny rides his face and Patrick has the taste in his tongue, others he rides Jon’s dick and he can feel ghost fingers clench tightly on his hips, enough to bruise; those are the times disappointment hits him in the face with the first light when his skin is as pale as it’d been the night before. Often enough, he’s the one who leaves marks on Jon’s neck biting that mole while he fucks Jon’s thighs.

Most of the times though, he dreams of cuddles and forehead kisses. He dreams of fingers gently tracing cheekbone lines and eyelashes that caress cheeks; of lazy Sunday mornings squeezed on the couch with Etienne between them, Jon’s fingers tangled in Patrick’s hair while his thumb traces circles on Jon’s neck.

Currently though, he’s trying to find a plausible explanation as to why when not mathematically possible for a statistical improbability to transition to a functional impossibility, realistically it can.

The knock on the door makes him groan, not only because it interrupts his thought process but mainly because he’s in no mood for company. He’d ignore it if he wasn’t afraid of his mother’s threat of dragging him out by the mop he calls hair if he didn’t stop being a recluse.

He runs a hand through his hair in the off chance his mom is really at the door and straightens his T-shirt. He turns the knob ready to plaster a fake smile on his face but instead his jaw drops at the sight.

“Patwick” Etienne screams, even if there are merely inches apart, and he launches himself at Pat hugging his legs.

He’s petrified for a minute; only his eyes move-gaze flicking once at the little boy and once at a sheepish looking Jon that’s currently standing on his doorstep saying “Hello, Pat”

When the first wave of shock passes, he sinks down on his knees-that can no longer hold his weight- and closes his arms around the boy. He lifts him up “What- what are you doing here?” he wonders.

Jon bites the corner of his lip and his ears pink “We are looking for someone to share an ‘adventure’ with us. Do you know anyone that might be interested?”

 

 

 


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the end. Thank you all for joining me on this wild ride and for your incredibly lovely comments. 
> 
> If you have a prompt/idea or if you just want to talk come visit me on [tumblr](http://oflovesandlikes.tumblr.com/). Following me is not required. I'll write all the prompts I can and answer all your messages.
> 
> Alternatively, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/andielach). I haven't been using it all that much but maybe this is the best opportunity to start again :)

 

 

**Epilogue**

_Late October_

Patrick dashes out off the car and slams the door behind him ignoring Jonny’s calls “Come on, babe, don’t be like that”

It’s not like the novelty has worn off, on the contrary all is still shiny and new and every waking moment they discover something more about each other. It’s just that Jonny has this uncanny ability to drive Pat up the walls like no other.

It’s not even one of those rare fights driven by vague traces of Jon’s distrust. Those moments hurt him, making him wonder how much longer he’ll see that shadow in Jonny’s eyes, the one that brings back memories and issues Patrick never intended to put upon him. He accepts the unspoken blame and the painful consequences because unintentionally or not their hurt feelings don’t matter less than his own.

To Jon’s defense, it happens unintentionally as well, and only lasts for a moment and when it’s over he’s much more apologetic and affectionate and together they find ways to built up a mutual trust one step at a time. The rest of the guys eye him suspiciously more often and Patrick knows it’s their way for looking after Jon so he doesn’t fault them either. He just strives to prove that it was one mistake he has no intention of repeating.

Even on his weakest moments though, those that seem like his redemption will never come and make his heart plummet, even then Patrick does not regret the effort. He grabs himself by Etienne’s giggle and Jonny’s stone cold glare to anyone that might direct any jibe at him, even as a jest, and knows that he’s not alone; someone always has his back.

But today it was not about that at all. To be completely honest Patrick doesn’t even remember what they were fighting about, probably something incredibly stupid, but he’s sure he was right and his lingering anger is justified. Jon’s nonchalant attitude makes his blood boil inside in a not so fun way.

He’s not ready to dismiss his feelings, partially because Jonny was definitely in the wrong and mostly because a bit of a pout works wonders to his advantage, but it’s a Friday and they promised Etienne to spend a few hours together before driving him to his grandparents house, so he plasters a half fake smile on his face and goes to pick up the boy.

He’s a little early so he makes his way to Etienne’s classroom instead of waiting outside. Through the closed door he can hear a fuss and children’s voices. Most people would be terrified by the prospect of sharing close quarters with screaming toddlers but Patrick has grown up with three sisters and the screeches don’t bother him.

He knocks on the door and a woman answers. She has a kind round face and even behind her thick brown frames Patrick can see sparkly eyes. He can’t help but smile at her “Hello. I’m sorry for the interruption. I’m Patrick Kane; I’m here to pick up Etienne”

 “Adelia Deniel” she says offering her hand “I’m Etienne’s teacher”

Patrick shakes her hand “Nice to meet you”

“Would you please wait a moment?” she asks.

Patrick nods as she makes her way inside. From the slightly cracked door Patrick can see her searching a file on her desk. He catches her frown and the way she slides her glasses up her nose with her index finger. He doesn’t have to be a genius to know that something’s wrong.

He braces himself for whatever it is as she makes her way back to him “I’m sorry Mr.Kane but we were not informed you were the one picking him up. You do understand we can’t allow someone to take a child if we do not have a parent’s consent.”

Patrick swallows his disappointment “You’re right. I apologize for the omission. I was so excited to get here we totally forgot. His father is right outside. I’ll send him in.” Something in his face must show what he’s feeling because Adelia’s face softens “Can you get Eti ready in the meantime?”

“Of course” she says but before Pat can leave two sets of footsteps approach the door “You come” Etienne says as he knocks himself on Pat’s legs.

Patrick huffs; he should have known really. There hasn’t been any half opened door that hasn’t caught Etienne’s attention yet. The running joke in their house is whether he’ll grow up to be a detective or a spy. Patrick’s bet is the latter, obviously! He’s trying to recruit him for the US side!

Patrick ruffles his hair “Of course we did. We promised to come pick you up, didn’t we?”

Adelia’s posture changing into one of alarm “Eti, do you know this man?”

Etienne looks up at her with a frown “’Course. He’s my dad!” he says it in a tone the ‘duh’ is implied and that’s the last thing Pat’s brain registers. He’s too busy trying to calm his heart that has suddenly grown too wide for his chest cavity to pay any attention.

Etienne hasn’t called him that before; not the weeks they’ve been living together, not since that one time he asked him to stay and Patrick crushed the little boy’s dreams. He hasn’t consciously thought about it but at this very moment he feels the fear of never hearing that word from the boy’s lips, one he never knew it even lived inside him, dissipate.

The tag on his jeans brings him back to reality and he comes face to face with a worried Etienne, bottom lip caught between his teeth, eyes huge and wide. Patrick beams at him, blinking to clear his eyes from the unshed tears, part reassurance part genuine affection and delight, and after a beat he’s rewarded with an equally sunny smile.

“Mr. Kane, I still can’t release Etienne to you without-“

Patrick’s motion makes him look like a bubblehead with how hard he nods. “Yeah, sure. Jonny will be here in a moment” he can’t even be bothered by this because Etienne has just called him ‘ _dad._ ’ Everything else seems unimportant.

He turns to Etienne “Go get ready, bud. I’ll go get papa”

“Can Lacee come?” he asks pointing to a little girl who waits patiently two steps back, looking up at Pat expectantly through a mess of auburn hair that fall in her eyes.

“If her parents say it’s OK, of course she can come” at this point he’d agree to fetch the moon for him if the boy asked.

Etienne motions him down to his level and Patrick follows suit “She only has a papa” the boy whispers.

“We’ll ask her papa when he comes pick her up, yeah?” Jon says right behind Patrick’s back.

“Papa” Etienne shouts and opens the door wider to reach him, while Patrick asks “What are you doing here?”

Jon hugs Etienne “You were taking too long. I got worried” only Jonny could throw in an accusation while being sweet, yet overprotective, all at the same time.

Patrick raises his eyebrow in a clear challenge “Someone forgot to mention I needed clearance to pick Eti up”

Jon’s expression goes from scowling to sheepish in a flash “Sorry” he mumbles.

“Now that everything is settled, Etienne why don’t you go pack up your bag? And take Lacee with you” the teacher says out of the blue startling both Patrick and Jon who had forgotten she was still there.

Patrick’s cheeks flash from embarrassment and Jon’s sporting an equal blush “Sorry” they say in unison. Pat shrinks being unable to shake the feeling of being scolded the way his mom used to do, silently but the judgement evident in her eyes.

Adelia seems to make an effort not to laugh “Mr. Toews would you like us to add Mr. Kane-“

“Of course” Jonny says immediately, without missing a beat. He realises he interrupted again and offers another apology. Patrick would have laughed at his flush if he wasn’t ready to burst into tears.

He doesn’t have a ring on his finger, and though they have talked about marriage in general no one has formally asked yet; and yet Etienne called him dad and Jon gives his consent freely, easily like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Even though they’ve been living as a family for weeks, this, right now, it feels like the final stamp of acceptance, cementing Pat’s position and permanent status in their lives.

Jon takes him by the arm and leads him outside the classroom “Are you alright?” he asks, clearly worried about Pat’s silence and the way he fidgets not knowing how to even begin to process this abrupt wave of happiness “Shouldn’t I have?”

Patrick shakes his head and lifts his watery eyes to meet Jon’s “No, no. I- _thank you_ ”

Jon’s face softens and he half smiles in that way Patrick knows is usually followed by a quick kiss. They both know they can’t but Jon quickly runs his thumb over the corners of his lips.

“We go now?” Etienne’s question shakes them out of their trance. The boy’s jacket is on messily and he drags his bag on the floor.

Patrick tries to hold Etienne’s hand but the little boy pulls it away with force “Dad” he whines, his eyes drifting Lacee’s way.

Patrick chuckles and gently places his hand between the boy’s shoulder blades guiding him towards the exit “All right, big guy. Let’s go”

“Did he just-“Jon wonders quietly as he plasters himself all over Patrick’s back.

Patrick turns and beams at him, letting all the pride he feels inside free “Yeah”

Jonny’s eyelashes flatter close and Pat’s grin falls “Is it- is it OK?”

Jon looks down at him and smiles, the kind that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle and his whole face light up “More than” he says. His palm finds Patrick’s without looking, like it knows its way blindly and entwines their finger.

Patrick bites his lip but still it’s not enough to hide his ingratiating simper. Jonny smiles softly back at him.

 

 

 

Patrick lays quietly on his side, exhausted and sore but sated nonetheless, mind wandering in thoughts that, strangely, have nothing to do with the pleasure he and Jon had just given one another.

Jonny comes back from the bathroom, looking all prim and proper. If Patrick’s mind wasn’t occupied with other thoughts he’d have wondered how he can manage to go from spewing obscenities in Patrick’s ears one minute to appearing as a perfect gentleman the next.

It’s one of the things he not so secretly loves about Jonny; how he can let himself go wild in their most intimate moments-and how he accepts that side of Patrick as well when it surfaces- while being incredibly tender and sweet the moment their hunger is sated. More than that, he has no qualms anymore about letting Patrick coddle him even if he doesn’t allow himself the comfort that often.

Jonny lies on the bed, moving closer to Pat as he does so; even lying down and on his side his frame still covers Patrick’s smaller one, his arm wraps around Pat’s waist, palm resting low in his belly; the touch feathery but still anchoring him all the same, a constant reminder of _safe_ , _cherished_ , and _belong_.

Patrick hums contently as Jon nuzzles that spot behind his ears and leaves quick pecks to whatever skin their position allows “You OK, babe?”

Patrick hums again, leaning towards Jonny to show his clear approval of Jon’s ministrations. They’re not even nearly ready for another round but they both seem to love it when they get a chance to cuddle lazily in bed, no matter how vehemently Jon denies it outside their bedroom.

Though his mind is scheming his body is very much attuned to Jon’s court. It’s probably the reason why it takes a firm hand on his shoulder and a shake to get him in contact with reality again “Am I boring you?” Jon asks kind of hurt.

Patrick turns around and shifts their position, laying Jon on the mattress and himself across Jonny’s chest. He leaves a quick peck right where Jon’s heart beats underneath. “I was just thinking...”

“About what?”

“Max”

“Max?” there’s an edge in Jon’s voice Patrick doesn’t just like, he’s maybe, possibly quite enamoured with it.

“Lacee’s dad” he doesn’t supply more information because he secretly loves when Jonny gets all jealous and possessive; It makes him feel a lot better about his own proprietorial urges. It makes it hard for both of them to find clothes that hide the evidence of that but Patrick revels on the feeling instead of feeling ashamed.

“Were you now?” Jonny’s question is followed by a tag on Pat’s curls. He’s weak and the moan escapes his lips on its own accord but he follows it with a chuckle.

He slaps Jon’s chest playfully “Not like that, asshole! Just... He seemed nice, is all. Too bad he has to go through everything by himself”

Jon’s back to petting his curls instead of pulling them- that’s only allowed during sex. He lets out a heavy sigh as well “Yeah” he agrees.

“It was like that for you before, wasn’t it?” Patrick already knows the answer; he just has to ask because it’s part of his plan. His fingers do trace soothing circles on Jon’s chest because the memories still hurt.

“Almost, yeah. But I found you” Jonny says as he holds him tighter and leaves a kiss on the top of Pat’s head.

Patrick can’t help but raise his head and peck whatever patch of skin is closer without having to move himself. The kiss catches the space between shoulder and neck “Exactly!”

They stay like that for a while, in comfortable silence “hey, Jonny?”

Jonny just hums to show him he’s listening “Your friend Ryan, he’s in investment banking, right?”

“Yes?” Jonny is clearly puzzled.

Patrick bites his bottom lip “Is he still single?” he asks.

Jonny must have shrugged because Pat’s whole head moves a few inches lower “As far as I know. Why?”

“Nothing... just thinking” he replies quite blasé.

It doesn’t seem to alarm Jonny who’s getting sleepy if the way his words slur is anything to go by “’Bout what?”

Patrick doesn’t try to hide his smile, he’s certain Jon can feel it on his skin “My birthday is coming up... Think we have time to plan them an adventure?”

 

 

THE END

 

 

 


End file.
